


You Should See Me In A Crown

by JazzKat1213



Series: Broken Thrones [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: (Once they get past the denial and repression), (The show essentially), Adora (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Adora tells Shadow Weaver to piss off and it's cathartic, Alternate Season/Series 05, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Battle, Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra) - Freeform, Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Catra (She-Ra) Redemption, Catra Has A Mental Breakdown, Catra is suicial, Character Study, Cuddling, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff, Healing, Hordak is dead, Hurt/Comfort, I mean a really slow burn, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Minor Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra), Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Alternating, Past Unrequited Scorpia/Catra, Prime doesn't show up immediately, Season 4 alternate ending, Slow Burn, There's fluff now guys I'm counting it, They're emotionally aware in this one lads, at least at first, friends to enemies to idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 106,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25670200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzKat1213/pseuds/JazzKat1213
Summary: Hordak is dead, crushed under falling metal. Glimmer is gone, saved by Bow. And for one stupid, weak minute Catra thinks about joining them. She doesn’t, she stays. Sits upon a throne that she’s won but means nothing. The war is over isn’t it? Her forces are crushed and there’s nothing else for her to climb for power. All that’s left to do is fall.What if Hordak died and Horde Prime had waited a little longer before showing up? Or my flimsy excuse for Adora to see Catra at her worst as she has a breakdown on a throne and the subsequent fallout and falling back in. (Tags will update as we go)
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow & Catra (She-Ra)
Series: Broken Thrones [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908466
Comments: 538
Kudos: 671





	1. Isn't This What You Wanted?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a thought and it spiraled into this. It's gonna get a lot worse before it gets better but it _will_ get better so.  
> Beta: toffii
> 
> TW: suicidal thoughts, referenced murder (of a guy who had it coming and it's more manslaughter/self-defense anyway), there's a war so y'know things to do with that, blood

***Catra***

He’s dead. It doesn’t feel real, even though the pool of his blood has crawled far enough along the ground to stain her bare feet. Hordak is dead and she killed him. 

And she has nothing left. Not even the Princess that was laid at her feet - that she asked to just end it all - she’s gone. Saved by Arrow Boy and whisked away and Catra, she just...watched and let it happen. 

She feels like a fake. It’s exactly what she is.

For one weak, falsely hopeful moment she thinks about following the two of them, asking to know just how the Princess could try to fix instead of destroy what was already half-broken. But she doesn’t. She stays rooted to the metal floor she’s walked a million times, Black Garnet mocking her with everyone she’s lost; Shadow Weaver, Adora, Entrapta, even Scorpia all have become intertwined with her memories of this room and the magic it houses. 

She turns from the people who took Adora away, they’re already long gone, and the crystal that’s caused so much pain. Maybe she’ll regret letting her go eventually but what was the point of capturing her when the Rebellion has already destroyed the Horde’s forces? Her forces. _Hers_.

It’s both heart-crushing and mind-numbing. She did it. She’s free of everyone who’s ever tried to hurt her, she can rule the Horde just like she always said she would. But it’s not what she wants, it never was. And she really should’ve admitted it sooner. 

_“Is that what you really want? To rule the world?”_

“Shut. Up. Adora.” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud, the taste of her name in her mouth hurts like an old wound, but it’s not like there’s anyone left to hear her. There’s no one here. 

She carries on walking the ruined halls, leaving ghostly footprints made of drying blood. She’s alone. It makes her laugh - quietly, bitterly, miserably - into the silence. And it is _silence_ , the machinery broken and melted all around her. 

_“I mean, yeah, obviously. Isn’t that what you want too?”_

Even in a perfect world she still lied, still couldn’t admit it. She doesn’t want to rule the Horde. But it’s what she has, it’s the _only_ thing she has anymore. There’s no one left.

If that gnawing hole inside her wasn’t so big she might cry. Her throat fills up but she’s too tired for anything more than ragged breaths to leave, too burned and hurt and empty. Every step she takes rattles her whole body. The blasted-through walls still glow red and she wouldn’t care if it scorched the skin off her body and turned her to ash. 

Her feet know where they’re taking her before she does. She’s going towards the one and only thing she has left.  
  


The rising platform holding the throne she’s won sneers at her. Metal clangs in her head like gunfire as it gets closer, red light sprayed across it like bloodshed. She sits upon the throne she’s clawed for years to get. It feels like every heartbreak she’s ever known. It’s empty and meaningless and it’s...not what she wants. 

Adora was right, Double Trouble was right. Of course they were, when was she _ever_ right? She’s just...wrong. About everything. Shadow Weaver knew that, for all the things she’d ever spat at her ( _unlovable, worthless, useless, pest_ ) she’d never believed that she’d been wrong. 

She finally gets what she wants only for it to not be what she wants at all. She laughs again, broken and pained, into the heaviest silence she’s ever experienced. There’s no one here to hear her. She’s alone. She’s alone. _She’s alone_.

_“You push them away Wildcat.”_

Her troops are most likely dead, maimed or deserting on battlefields she can’t see. The thought hurts more than it ought to. They’re fighting a war, people die. But it’s over isn’t it? The Rebellion’s won and she has nothing but this throne. This meaningless metal that offers no hope of salvation as she once thought. There are people dying for her, for Hordak: the leader she’s known her whole life. The leader she’s taken from them. And it’s all her fault. 

Some black rebuttal forms: _‘They wouldn’t be dying if Double Trouble hadn’t betrayed you. You’d be winning.’_

It should be comforting, it’s anything but. What’s one more betrayal? They should be blurring together by now, with how often she experiences them. But they don’t - they always hurt, opening new wounds bound to scar. How is there even room for them on her body anymore? 

She takes the seat she always thought she wanted, slumps into its hard, unforgiving surface without the pride she ought to feel. She doesn’t leave. She’s never known how to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for using a Billie Eilish lyric as a title.  
> It's gonna get a lot angstier from here on out. And the suicidal tendencies stay for a while sorry.


	2. I've Known For A While Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: suicidal thoughts (kinda), implied murder

***Adora***

The sword is broken, shattered like her destiny. She-Ra is gone. The war? She doesn’t even know. All she knows is the stars she’s never seen stretched out before her. She feels so small. And so alone. Wherever she is, it’s barren and cloudless and far away from anything else. 

It’s peaceful atop this hill. Maybe she doesn’t ever want to come down. 

But it can’t last. And she’s thankful the voices of her friends behind her elicits relief instead of dread. She runs down the hill and into their open arms; “You guys are okay!”

The joy can’t stay, not after everything that’s happened, and yet she keeps the fantasy alive for as long as she can, head on her friends shoulders and sheltered in their hold. It’s remarkably still for a minute - a welcome reprieve from the day's events. When it breaks there’s the telltale shine of tears in Glimmer’s eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, the Heart, I shouldn’t have-”

Something hardens in Bow’s face as they all remember the last time they talked and the emotions none of them are ready to face again, “- Stop. Not right now okay.”

The hurt is as obvious as any wound, they all feel it. A group divided that they need to sew back together. So many things to fix. She can’t even begin to unpick the messy thread and find the start. 

Bow takes a breath, she understands, there’s just _so much_. She feels like with enough air maybe she’ll be able to make sense of it all, be able to forgive and move on and do what needs to be done. She holds out on that hope, even though it's never really worked before. 

He starts, “So...what happened, are you okay? The Heart didn’t go off did it?” 

“No. I stopped it.” There’s a void in her voice she can’t fill, she feels hollow...but lighter. Free of the destiny she never wanted. She can’t look at them; she feels weak. How can she save everyone and still feel like she’s failed?

“I thought you said nothing could stop it once it went off?” 

She doesn’t give him an answer. She knows she should. There’s an uneasy pause where no one looks at anyone else. 

“Adora where’s the sword?” There’s too much concern in Bow’s voice. 

She doesn't regret what she did; Etheria doesn't deserve to be a weapon, the world doesn't deserve to burn for the First Ones. No amount of power would be worth losing every life she's ever tried to save. “The sword’s gone, and so is She-Ra.”

Both Bow and Glimmer hesitate, seeming to forget their animosity for a moment as they share matching worried looks. Bow is the first one to speak again, “What do we do now?”

The only thing she feels she knows how to do anymore. “We win this war. Once and for all.” 

Glimmer looks worried - maybe she doesn’t think they can. Wasn’t that the point of setting off the Heart? The power? Or was her breaking the sword all for nothing?

“Adora...Catra killed Hordak. She controls the Horde now.”

Oh. 

She thinks her heart stops as her head flows over with realisations and for a moment the nothing lets up enough for ice to fill her veins. She feels cold. But then it’s gone. It sinks in. 

She did it. After everything they - she - said, she finally did it. She's the one calling the shots, who took over like they - she - always said she would. Should she feel proud of her? Is that what this is? Some twisted pride? Or disappointment or fear or longing or _‘I miss who you used to be’_ … She just doesn’t know anymore. That void is crushing down on her chest, on her heart. She doesn’t want to know what it means. But she does. She’s known for a while now. 

“We need to stop her before she figures out what to do next. We’ll go back to Brightmoon, get everyone together and...figure it out.” Her voice doesn’t sound like hers, she barely even feels it. 

She looks over at Glimmer, she’s taking charge again, one of the very things that drove them apart. But there’s only worry and regret there, something like pleading for forgiveness when she says, “Let’s go home.”  
  


Adora gives one last look back towards the endless expanse of speckled sky. It feels like a last _something_ , she just doesn’t know what. The hill she stood on both pushes and pulls at her, enough for her not to do anything. She wants to stay in that simple nothingness, feeling small but free. Where she can pretend that she doesn’t know how this is all going to end. And she will continue to pretend, she realises, till the very last moment. She will lie over and over that this won’t end with blood on her hands and a body cradled in her arms. 

Because Catra will not go down without a fight, she’s a survivor, always has been. She’ll make Adora take her out with a blade she doesn’t have anymore. But she’ll try anyway, she’ll reach out to her and offer one last chance if only because if she doesn’t, and Catra dies by her hand, she’ll drown in ‘what ifs’ for the rest of her life. She knows that she might choke on her own sorrow before that ever happens.

That is if Catra doesn’t take her with her when she goes. It doesn’t sound so bad. And maybe that’s the worst part. She’s never thought she would live through this war, always knowing that she’ll die to end it. But if anyone takes her down she’ll be glad it’s her. She'll be glad if Catra's face is the last thing she ever sees.

Glimmer offers her hand and it feels like so much more - an apology maybe? Everything is too much and not enough, like she’s caught in the stillness of a storm’s eye. She doesn’t even have time to slow her heart before Brightmoon appears back before her in a shower of sparkles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapters feel so wrong to me but here we are. Also Adora is mildly suicidal as well I realised which oops I guess, but like it's just her self-sacrificing nature saying hi.


	3. Last Time Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora is once again facing the fact that she may have to kill Catra. She tells everyone they better be prepared for the storm on the Fright Zone. She's a fucking hypocrite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: yeah again someone is facing the possibility of having to murder someone

***Adora***

She watches Glimmer’s homecoming with a smile she doesn’t feel. In the whirlwind of the aftermath she hadn’t even thought to tell her that her dad is alive and with them. The teary disbelieving smile on the Princess’ face isn’t enough to fix anything, but for a few minutes at least they can all pretend. 

They get word out to the other Princesses and anyone else that might be able to help in dismantling the Horde for good. The results of which consist of an entirely united Alliance and Castaspella arriving with a small group of sorcerers within two days. Another reunion later, and the beginnings of a plan to storm the Fright Zone are already underway.  
  


Since the activation of the Heart, it’s taken them all of three days to figure out the plan. It’s rushed and sloppy and running on impulse and assumptions for the most part but they don’t have time. They need to move, and quickly. 

Catra’s so many things; she’s a puzzle Adora has spent her whole life trying to piece together only for it to shatter before her eyes. There’s many aspects which Adora tells herself are long gone, simply because any other option hurts too much. She can’t look into those eyes that have haunted her every moment since Thaymore and believe there’s still the woman she fell in love with buried in there. She’s not strong enough. 

But she thought she had collected every single part in their eighteen years together, she knew - knows - every piece Catra let her see in excruciating detail. And then she left, and the shards she loved so dearly mutated, turning to sharp, jagged weapons; her determination, her resilience and stubbornness becoming familiar enemies. Adora had seen new bladed pieces emerge from within her as well, and in her own heartbreak hoped selfishly that they hadn’t been there the whole time. 

It means that even with wrecked forces and soldiers deserting she’ll pick herself back up, she’ll keep on trying. She’s never given up before, why would she start now? Hordak is dead, there’s no one left to stop her but Adora herself.

* * *

“She’ll be pulling all her forces back to the Fright Zone, she knows she needs the protection,” Shadow Weaver seems to seethe from across the table. Even without her magic, the darkness clings to her. Every time she speaks of Catra, Adora flares with rage she doesn’t understand. 

She tastes ash in her mouth when she says, “It’ll be heavily fortified with whatever artillery they have left so we’ll need a large - magical - offensive group and a smaller number to infiltrate and take her on individually.”

The many sorcerers and Princesses all nod. Glimmer being the only one who doesn’t - she knows she’s on that infiltration team. In spite of all the chaos, Glimmer had found the time to apologise, and honestly, it’s one of the only things keeping her going. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing. It’s allowed her to move on, enough that she’s glad to have her by her side again, happy to work with her to stop this war once more. 

Bow asks, “What about once you’re inside?” from the other side of the room. Adora tries not to let any shock at him speaking show; he doesn’t talk much when Glimmer’s in the room anymore. Adora just hopes that’ll change after this mission. They’ll have time when the war is over. 

_When the war is over._ She can’t even begin to comprehend it. 

“If she’s not too proud for it she’ll have a personal guard set up near her as protection. Shadow Weaver and myself will lead the infiltration team. I’ll get to Catra. Everyone else who is with me will take down her guards.” Even saying her name makes her heart beat faster.

“And what if she’s left the Fright Zone?” 

She forces herself not to laugh bitterly at Juliet, she forgets sometimes that no one knows her better than she does. Not even Scorpia, who sits silently next to Perfuma. She gains some weird sort of consolation in knowing that Scorpia looks about as miserable as she feels.

“She’ll be there. She’s spent her whole life vying for that throne, she’s not going to let it go now. We leave tomorrow, be prepared.”  
  
  


She continues staring rigidly at the pink holographic Fright Zone on the map as everyone else leaves. She can feel her foot tapping and her hands clutching at the table but she doesn’t (can’t) stop either. 

“Adora?”

She forces herself to relax, it’s harder than expected. “What is it Glimmer?”

“I didn’t tell you something before, because I honestly forgot about it in the chaos. But I - I just think you should be prepared to see Catra.”

That too, almost gets a bitter laugh. When has she ever been _prepared_ to see Catra on a battlefield? When has she ever been _prepared_ to see the flames of hate in the eyes of her bestest and oldest friend? 

“I’m fine Glimmer. I’ve fought her before, I’ll do it again, I’ll -” kill her if I have to. She can’t even say it, how the fuck is she meant to actually do it? She’ll figure it out. She has to, for everyone’s sake, she’ll do it and end this war. 

“I just don’t think -” Glimmer sighs, “Adora I found her, before, by Hordak’s body. She was broken. She… she looked me in the eyes and told me to ‘do it’.”

It takes her far too long to answer, her hands find their place back on the table ledge in some desperate attempt at grounding herself. She hears a crunch and something splinters under her hands, she doesn’t look away from the map to see what. Her voice shakes when she finally manages it, “Do what?”  
She knows she doesn’t want the answer.

“Kill her.”

She forces herself to breath past the _‘No, no, no’_ screaming in her head. The words come falling out anyway, “No that - she - she wouldn’t. Catra _doesn’t give up_. You _know_ that.”

“I do. But I saw what I saw, Adora. I saw a woman unmoving by a body asking me to kill her. She had plenty of time to attack me, capture me, but she let me go.”

She only meets Glimmer’s eyes for a second but it’s enough. She’s serious. Catra was willing to lay down and die at the hands of a Princess. She doesn’t know what that means for her - for them. A fight is expected, she can handle it, it’s horridly familiar. But Catra without her anger or her drive or her cruel smiles that tear her apart? That - that terrifies her in a way she’s entirely unfamiliar with. And Catra _asking_ her to end her life? She can’t even begin to think about it.

“Are you going to be okay?”

That finally lets out the pained, bitter laugh she’s been holding down, her throat feels raw when it tears out of her. She drags a hand down her face and finds deep intents in her palms from the material she’d shattered.

“I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.”

* * *

  
When she lies down at night she sees cats eyes in the shadows, burning and dangerous and broken. It’s not even the first night she’s had like this; where she’s shouted to thoughts of Catra and the inevitable demise they seem to face over and over. 

And it _hurts_ , it hurts every fucking time. 

She hears Catra’s laughter in the wind as it whispers through thick curtains. She keeps the lights on to chase away the memories of black nights spent together talking under covers. She cries when she falls into thoughts of her touch, how warm she always was, how alive, like a wildfire. Absolutely untamable. 

She lets herself think about it, something deep inside her saying that this ought to be the last time she ever thinks of her like this. She’s heard it before. She succumbs to it every time anyway. 

But tonight might be the last time thoughts of Catra aren’t poisoned by the sight of her lifeless body in her hands. It’s a realisation that has her rushing outside and hunching over on cold stone to stop herself throwing up.  
  


Tomorrow sits heavy on her chest as she stares at the ceiling, she’s long since stopped trying to wipe away tears. The aching hasn’t disappeared, it never does, but it’s bearable. She’s built that wall between her heart and her head back up. She wills herself into numbness with the knowledge of what she _has_ to do. She tells herself she can do it if she feels she has no choice. It’s what allowed her to leave (and stay gone) in the first place. 

_’There’s always a choice. You chose to do this to us.’_ It sounds like _her_ and it rips another sob from her ribs.

Not for the first time she falls asleep wishing she had never found the sword in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me (chanting): angst! angst! angst!
> 
> This thing keeps getting longer, we're up to 9 chapters now oops.


	4. Battle Calm (Never Stays Long)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Alliance storms a ruined Fright Zone, and Adora still thinks she needs to do everything alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: again the whole might have to murder thing, stuff alluding to an anxiety attack

***Adora***

There’s an inexplicable amount of relief that washes over Adora when she wakes at the first moonrise, finding that within minutes a heavy battle calm has claimed a tight hold of her. It keeps her hyper aware of everything and everyone despite her body and her head feeling disconnected, despite the exhaustion she ought not to feel hanging over her consciousness like a ghost. Given the circumstances and the looming shadow of what she has to do within the next few hours, she doesn’t think she could feel better. And besides, she doesn’t mind it so much; it means she keeps moving.

It means that she’s washed and dressed and fed with far too much time to spare. The pike she finds herself holding instead of her sword doesn’t seem to matter, something tickles at the back of her mind, scratching at the wall the focused-haze has built. Something like how much easier this would be if she were She-Ra, if she could just give herself over to the magic, or how much simpler today might be if she never found that damn sword in the first place. 

She checks over the plan three more times before she feels even remotely comfortable leaving the war room for what might be the last time.

It's a bad idea but she trains - she just needs to move, keep the numbness flowing in her veins. Or maybe it’s adrenaline, she doesn’t really care so long as it works. There’s a messy array of strands that fall around her face, she pays them no mind, focus solely on empty air as she cuts through it, trying to reaffirm her comfort with a weapon she hasn’t used properly in years. The movements are familiar, they feel right; easy and practiced and she’s grateful. Even still, she feels weaker than she’s ever felt.

“Adora?” She lowers her staff and looks at the doorway, a simple nod from Glimmer is all it takes for her to know it’s time.

Identical hallways pass in a haze until she’s back in the throne room where she had pledged allegiance to a now-dead Queen. She pushes down the grief that rises in her throat.  
  


Their army gathers beneath the moonstone, bathed in its pale light just like everything else. The waters glow a soft blue-grey-white like liquid pearl, the endless woods carved from lapis and sapphire. She tries to memorize the sky, the positions of the moons, the patterns in the stars that drip like diamonds and is reminded of that lonely hilltop. She wishes she were still there, she wishes she never moved, she wishes she could know for certain that she will see the stars again. Idly she wonders if this is what Mara saw before she died.

_‘You might never see this place, these people again.’_

And still she feels nothing. She doesn’t let herself.

Bow tugs on her arm and she goes willingly, easily finding Shadow Weaver and her sea of wine-red robes in the crowd. She hates having to trust her, hates having to be _near_ her but it’s been too long for her to rely on her own knowledge of the Fright Zone. She pretends the fact doesn’t sting with some parody of home-sickness. The four of them stand and wait together in strained silence.

Micah makes sure the army stands within the perimeters of the spells as they ignite underfoot. The magic burns differently than she’s used to - all soft and welcoming pastels instead of She-Ra’s blinding white-gold. As with so much else in that moment, she doesn’t let herself miss it. Brightmoon melts away before her eyes.

* * *

  
Whatever haze she’s riding stays even as the Fright Zone paints itself around her. It stays as they’re spotted - it wasn’t a stealth mission anyway. It stays as tanks are armed and batons blaze to life with all-too-familiar lightning. 

All she needs to do is get through the initial wave, find the closest entrance and get in before reinforcements bar their progress. She sticks close to Bow, Glimmer and Shadow Weaver, as is the plan. Her mind is thankful for the fight, of the way it brings that battle calm back down like a blanket. She knows how to fight. She can do that. 

She doesn’t think a day went by in her youth where she didn’t have to fight for _something_. It’s natural, instinctual in a way nothing else is. Even without She-Ra thrumming in her skin, she still throws herself into it, taking down as many soldiers as she can. Because it’s all she _can_ do now - she can’t tear through tanks without breaking a sweat anymore, can’t heal her friends if they’re wounded. She hopes with everything she has that they don’t forget that.

It takes only a few minutes for the almost suspiciously small force to be destroyed, Adora doesn’t waste time waiting for the next group, calling Glimmer, Bow and Shadow Weaver nearer the door they are to enter through. She’s proud of herself for even making it this far, for leaving their friends behind to fight a battle her body is screaming at her to be a part of. 

Glimmer teleports them to the other side of the door, and they leave the smog-stained sky of the Fright Zone behind them in a shower of amethyst sparkles.  
  


Adora swallows thickly against the black air lingering in her lungs as she stares down the first of the infinite hallways that make up the intestines of the Fright Zone. She thought she was prepared to come back here, but in all her worrying and heartache she didn’t even consider _where_ she was going. She’s _here_ in this roiling mass of metal she used to call home.

She learned to fight here, to dress herself, and walk and talk and plan battles and navigate barren landscapes and survive. She’d played in these halls as a toddler, chasing Catra - always chasing Catra - through their endless maze. She learned how to _love_ here, with _her_ , against all the odds.

Gods coming here might be the biggest mistake of her life. It’s like a switch and that battle calm she’d been clinging onto is flooded with her own breath-taking dread. It just makes her walk faster, alongside Shadow Weaver and all the memories the witch carries like a disease. 

They don’t see any other soldiers - it makes the fear skyrocket in her veins. There should be guards rushing to defend against the Princesses. It’s deserted. Something whispers in the back of her head. Glimmer had told her about the deal she’d made with Double Trouble, how the Princesses had crushed the Horde’s forces that were coming to destroy them with the power of the Heart. But here and now the consequences are so painfully obvious it makes her stomach churn.

She turns a corner and comes unexpectedly face to face with a three-person squadron. She hears one of them whisper, “Shadow Weaver?” under their breath and she uses the momentary pause to tackle one of them into a wall. She’s glad she doesn’t recognise any of them, it makes it easier to press her staff to their throat. 

“Where is she?” There’s clear desperation corrupting her shout she can’t bring herself to care about.

“Who?” It just makes her angrier. 

“Your leader.”

“We don’t know where Hordak is.”

She presses the weapon in a little harder, she doesn’t recognize her own voice when it grates against her teeth on the way out, “Wrong answer. Hordak’s dead. Try again.”

There’s a stillness that implies genuine shock. She loosens her hold just a little and waits for an answer while the soldier figures out their next words.

“We stopped receiving orders four days ago. We haven’t heard anything.”

If Catra isn’t giving orders there’s a reason. She’s power hungry the way Shadow Weaver crafted her to be (the way she tried to make Adora) and after finally seizing it she’s not using it? Something is wrong. So undoubtedly wrong. 

_‘Maybe she_ can’t _give orders.’_

She doesn’t want to listen. She doesn’t, she doesn’t, she - 

_‘You might not get to give her that one last chance after all.’_

She lets the soldier still in her hold go, and the group hesitates before running, she doesn’t care where they’re going; none of them had any major grade weapons, they don’t even seem to be heading towards the battle. 

She turns on Glimmer, words bitter and strained, “You said she let you go.”

“She did, she was alive. I saw her walking away.”

For a second she’s paralyzed between _‘Gods I hope you’re right,’_ and _‘Gods I hope you’re wrong.’_ Finding Catra dead makes her heart shatter but having to _kill_ Catra? That tears her soul to pieces. 

And gods it all feels so real suddenly. She’s here, in the Fright Zone, with barely a weapon, talking about killing the woman she’s loved since before she knew what love was. It’s only when her vision starts going black at the edges that she realises how desperately she’s sucking in air. For barely a few seconds she’s floating above everything, then Bow’s hands on her arms drag her back to the ground, all that dread following like a tidal wave. 

She wants that numbness back, she wants to be able to breathe, she wants to not have to do this. But she does. And she will. Because she’s She-Ra.

_‘But you’re not. Not anymore.’_

She wishes that was enough to stop her own undying obligation. She stands up straight again, shrugging off worried hands and turning towards the sorceress that in so many ways had doomed her from the beginning. She doesn’t know where the shadows end and she begins.

She holds a hand out, willing it not to shake, unsure if she’s successful, “Take me to the throne room.”

It’s only because she anticipates Glimmer and Bow’s pleading objections that she can ignore them. “Adora what -”

“I’m doing this alone, don’t even try and stop me.” She’s glad the apathy is back in her tone.

“Adora it’s too dangerous, don’t -”

It feels like those shadows crawl into her veins, poison she lets win, when black magic takes hold of her body.

* * *

“Just across this bridge and through another set of doors,” Shadow Weaver says, a hand on her shoulder.

It’s some caricature of gentle, and it’s a reminder of every time she failed Catra when they were younger. The memories make her head dizzy because she _should have known_ , she _should have done more_. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to do this. Maybe she wouldn’t have lost her in the first place.

“Leave.” She rips her body out from the grip the witch had on it; she feels sick, she feels free, she feels chained. There’s too much, she searches desperately for the numbness.

“Adora that’s a foolish idea Catra -”

“ _I’m doing this alone._ It has to be me.” Rage she’s never truly let herself feel takes over, it’s desperate and fuelled by her own fear. Her eyes burn with tears when she shouts, it sounds like shattering glass; “You did this to us, you made us this way! You’ve tried to tear us apart our whole lives and guess what? You succeeded. So why -”

Her tongue gets tied with a million questions that ricochet in her head she’ll never ask:  
Why did you want us miserable?  
Was I anything other than a tool to you?  
Was _anything_ real?  
Did any part of you care about either of us even a little bit?  
_Can_ you even care about another person?

She settles for, “Why did you hate her?” And ignores the way her voice breaks.

“She was nothing but a distraction, she was always beneath you, she still is. I never understood why you cared. But I kept her around for you, against my better judgement.”

There’s no remorse, no regret, not even a whisper of it. If the anger set her alight then the ice of realisation dowses it. 

“You knew I’d never forgive you if you got rid of her,” she mutters it into the gentle howl of the wind.

She hates how long it’s taken her to figure it out. Shadow Weaver needed her loyal, needed her to think she was right, Catra was just another manipulation, another weapon. But a risk to her plans for her; she was never meant to care about Catra as much as she did. As much as she still does. But in so many ways she still succeeded in molding, building, breaking her, into what she wanted. She probably never guessed that weapon she created would be wielded by the opposite side. It’s barely reassuring.

_“Well you are kind of disrespectful.”_

Gods how could she have even said that? Catra never deserved anything that Shadow Weaver put her through. Why was she so blind? Why did it take that stupid sword for her to figure things out? Why couldn’t she just have been _better_ for her? Why has she failed everyone she’s ever cared about?

If the storm in her head is reflected on her face Shadow Weaver doesn’t show it. She’s blank, almost bored, not even acknowledging what she said. She’s seen that look so many times, but now the little voice in her head telling her she’s disappointed Shadow Weaver means nothing, she ignores it easily. And she just wants her gone, she never wants to see her again. Every second she morphs further into a living reminder of all her failures. 

“I understood that you were to grow up to be a hero. I could feel your power Adora and I risked everything trying to prepare you for the day you found it.”

The rage is back; she truly believes that she was right to do what she did. To ruin them. She can’t even stand to look at her.

She turns away, crossing the bridge, walking away from the woman - no, creature - she tried to make proud her whole life. She doesn’t have the energy to even try and convince herself that she lived up to expectations. Shadow Weaver won’t care what she says, she speaks the words anyway, tongue sour, 

“Yeah, well, hope it was worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They meet next chapter lads :) (And it's longer so it's gonna take a while to get posted.)  
> Also Adora telling Shadow Weaver to piss off part 1 of 2.


	5. I See Me In You (And I Hate It)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what if they're broken? They're broken together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavily inspired by Save the Cat and Don't Go (which is canon fight me)  
> TW: blood, minor self-harm via claws, absolutely no mental stability whatsoever, implied/referenced starvation and dehydration

***Adora***

There’s no guards, there’s no one at all, not that Adora can see. The pressing silence has the hallway echoing like a battlefield even with her quiet footsteps. It makes the blood rush in her ears, she can feel her rapid-fire pulse on her tongue. There’s broken machinery and melted walls and alcoves filled with liquid shadow; she sees the cracked remnants of her childhood before her eyes. She never lets her gaze stay long. So many things feel wrong in this moment, of course they do, but even with the dizzying riptide of her feelings and thoughts, she can pick apart the fact that the ever-present buzz of the Fright Zone is dead here. 

She stares at the black-green of the door for minutes on end, frozen in her own dread and hesitation. Knowing she can’t dwell in the storm of her thoughts, that she can’t afford to, she rams her pike into the control board. It opens easily after that, part of her wishes it didn’t, wishes she had an excuse to break and tear and shout. But it welcomes her in silently. She feels the blood drain from her face when she crosses the threshold. 

Distantly she hopes that Catra’s not here. It would only prolong the inevitable, but isn’t that what they’ve always done? Delay their own end?

It’s pitch black for a moment before the sensors catch her movement, red and white lights humming to life and flickering on with deep resounding thuds one by one. Even in the darkness she can find her, can know without a doubt that she’s there even if she can’t see her through the inky blade of shadows - her heart just knows. But another light blinks into illumination and that intuition isn’t needed. 

Her entire being sinks seeing Catra upon the throne they once promised would be theirs. The throne she never wanted, not really. It was always just a cover, a safe haven to fall back on; ruling the world _together_. She was allowed to want power, she wasn’t allowed to want _her_. She’s still not allowed to want anything. She’s long since made peace with the fact, not that it ridded her of the burning regret deep in her throat that leaks like acid when she thinks about it. She can taste it now. 

She can only just make out her shape from where she is, black and red and still. She waits for Catra to look at her, say something, even move at all but she doesn’t. For a few sickening seconds she thinks she’s dead. Catra sits slumped in her chair, head leaning on her hand, eyes unmoving even as they thin to slits with the sudden light. Adora’s feet take her closer, to the base of the stairs, before fear renders her useless again. 

Her fur and hair are burned, messy and bloody. Her clothes hang off her body and her eyes are all but black from exhaustion. The last light sounds like thunder in the quiet room when it wakes and Adora’s whole body goes cold from the fully illuminated sight. 

“Catra?” She hates how her voice breaks with concern. 

She shouldn’t - she _can’t_ \- feel like this. She's _never_ been allowed to feel like this for her; not when they were cadets, and not as enemies. She wants it to stop, this claw-grip Catra has on her. 

Once again she asks her heart why, why her? And as always it responds with memories of her smile and her laugh and her ferocity and her wit and just _Catra_. The one who fights and hisses and scratches at anyone and everyone who means her harm, and who always let Adora and Adora alone see the wounds. The one that turned soft amongst childish whisperings and thin bed covers.

But she’s not here anymore. And Adora’s been trying to convince herself of that for over two years, slowly replacing it with the person Catra has become. It’s never worked. The ruthless, driven creature full of words meant to attack and scar - the one everyone else knows - will never feel fully real so long as the rasp of her laugh lives within her. 

At least she can fight that Catra; the second-in-command plotting the Rebellion’s demise. Knows how to defend against the blades she wields. And as hard as it is, she can hurt that Catra. She’ll gladly die defeating that Catra if it means the war ends for good. 

But Glimmer’s warning was correct; the Catra in front of her is a ghost of the person she used to be, far from the child she knew, and miles from the woman who had cities burning down in her eyes. And just so, so cut off from the girl Adora fell in love with. But she’s still _Catra_ and her heart’s never known how to let her go.

Catra blinks; the first movement she’s made. She sighs shakily and her body moves like a corpse beginning to reanimate. She sits up as much as it seems she’s able to, her body relying on the unforgiving metal of the throne to keep her upright. 

Adora thinks she might throw up when she hears her speak. 

“Hey Adora.”

It’s a dry whisper she has to strain to hear, those familiar words that send her heart racing, so far beyond hopeless. She’s given up, she’s broken just like Glimmer said. She never thought Catra would give up on anything. But here she is, all the power she’s ever wanted and the weakest Adora’s ever seen her.

  


***Catra***  


  
Her throat hurts when she speaks, her bones crack and ache when she tries to move. Everything protests her not staying still and dying in this chair.

She would accuse Adora of coming to take her victory, just as she did her malicious double (she considers that this might be another trick from them but realises right now she doesn’t care either way,) if she felt there was anything she’d actually won. Adora doesn’t want this throne, she never did. She didn’t want her either, she’d made that clear. She just wanted the freedom the throne would’ve brought them. And what good did it do her? She’s still following orders. Catra isn’t. She’s free. And regrets ever wanting to be. 

She sits up a little straighter, bites back a whimper at the pain that shoots through her spine. She finally meets those eyes that have haunted her her whole life. Blue like the tears she hasn’t let herself cry. Her claws screech quietly as they rake over the throne’s arms, black grooves appearing there: a claim. It’s hers. It’s all she has. 

“Should I be surprised you’re here?” 

It’s quiet like the secrets they shared under bed covers at night. She’s surprised Adora even hears, but she does and her mouth opens to answer before she thinks better of it. And it’s that little not-action that kills her wondering over whether this is the real Adora or not. Catra’s seen that look too many times, each and every instance of it had red-black shadows looming over the two of them. 

Gods, Catra will never be rid of her, will she? (And deep down she knows she never truly wanted to be.)

“The war needs to be over Catra.”

It doesn’t matter how right she is, Catra will never admit to agreeing with her. She’s just _so fucking tired_. It needs to end. Everything preferably. 

“Where’s She-Ra?” She says instead, unable to force disdain into her voice.

“I’m not She-Ra anymore, the sword’s gone. Isn’t that what you wanted?” There’s an edge of pleading in her voice that throws her. 

_‘All I ever wanted was you, just you.’_

She doesn’t grace her with an answer.

“You have everything you ever wanted. Are you happy now?” 

She can see the tear that slips down Adora’s cheek and hates how badly it breaks her heart. Adora never let her see her cry when they were kids, only ever seeing her this truly vulnerable on opposite sides of the war. It doesn’t stop her from wanting to wipe it away and tell her that, no, she hasn’t got everything - she doesn’t have her.

 _‘Why doesn’t she get it?’_

It’s much better this way, it’s what she’s always said: Thank the gods Adora never knew how much she loved her.

_‘Love. You still do. You always will.’_

“Does it look like I’m happy Adora?” Anger she’s too tired to feel covers up how tears fill her throat. 

There’s too long a silence, too much eye-contact. She can’t breathe but can’t do anything else but try. Adora takes a step forward and something in Catra snaps. Her ears go back and she knows her face is just teeth in a gaunt frame. 

“Do you want to know what it’s like living our dream without you?”

She doesn’t know what prompted her to spit those words but it’s too late to take them back. It makes Adora freeze again, like the poison in her words has a physical effect, like their dreams still mean something to her. 

“No. I don’t.”

She sinks back into unwelcoming metal, “At least you’re honest.” 

_’At least you’re not lying to me anymore.’_

“Is that the only reason you did it?” 

It’s the unhidden tremble in her voice that makes Catra actually consider an actual answer. Did she do it just to achieve the dream? _Their_ dream. Yes, she thinks, because it was - is - the only thing she knew how to do when Adora left. Power is the only thing she ever let herself strive for. She blames Shadow Weaver.

_‘You always do, don’t you?’_

But no, some blacker part of her says, she didn’t do it just for the dream. She did it to prove everyone wrong, to make them regret ever seeing her as weak, to break out from Adora’s shadow. A lot of good it did her. And somewhere deep down she knows that even that wasn’t all of it; she did it _for her_ as some sick, twisted way of keeping her in her life. Of keeping the version of Adora in her memories alive.

“No.”

She can hear the tears in Adora’s voice. “Why else?”

When she laughs it tastes like smoke and shadow, her eyes stinging with despair. The burns all over her body are as numb as the rest of her. She screws her eyes against the way Adora looks at her, like there’s still something worth saving. She made it clear she doesn’t think that way anymore. If she could cry she knows her fur would be matted down with the water, but she doesn’t know how long she’s been here. All she knows is she’s not dead yet. It makes her laughs turn pained, morphing into soft cries. There’s only ever been one person she’s let see her like this, let see her break at all. And she’s here, walking closer, footsteps unsure. 

_‘I don’t need you. I don’t need you. I don’t need you...’_

Her ears prick forwards to catch the hitch in Adora’s breath (she’s standing in front of her now and the space between feels electric in the most painful way possible.) She said it out loud. It doesn’t matter. She curls her torso in on itself, claws slicing into her arms, she barely feels the slow drip of blood. It’s not deep enough to scar and she wonders why she held back. She has no reason to. 

“Catra, please, come home with me.” 

She can’t look at her, she’ll break. “This _is_ my home Adora.”

“Do you really believe that?”

_‘No. Not anymore. There’s really nothing left for me, not here, not anywhere.’_

_’Not without you.’_

“It’s the only home I’ve ever known. You used to feel the same way.” 

She’s still running in a way, weak excuses and deflection. All because she can’t admit that home seems to follow Adora like a disease. 

“If you don’t come willingly…”

“I’m going to Brightmoon in chains either way, aren’t I?”

Adora doesn’t move but she assumes that means yes, it’s better than she deserves, she knows that. She doesn’t think there’s any fight left in her. That flame’s been distinguished by the wind at the top of the mountain she’s been climbing her whole life. 

“I’m done making excuses for you Catra. But I’m not done with you. You can still get forgiveness if you’re willing to work for it.” 

She feels the movement in the air and she thinks (hopes) that Adora was trying to reach for her, but the contact never comes. She doesn’t know how to feel about it. She misses her so badly but the thought of being close to her again only to lose it, for good this time, is just so much worse. 

Catra still isn’t looking at her face but that doesn’t seem to matter, she still sees the tears that drip onto the floor. “Please Catra, please say you’ll try and fix this because I can’t do what I have to if you don’t.”

Oh. Adora’s meant to kill her, that’s why she didn’t say anything. She probably ought to feel more. She can die here, quickly, and have the last thing she ever sees be Adora’s tear stained face. Not She-Ra and her blazing electric blue eyes full of disdain - no, _Adora_. Just Adora, one last time. Her next breath shakes as she pictures it. It sounds like more than she deserves. 

She’s hurt Adora so much, and Adora’s always had the power to stop her from doing it again. But she hasn’t. Even when they’re fighting there’s something there that _lets_ Catra do those awful things. She’s never really considered why. She doesn’t even consider it now. Too much of her own longing and false hope will stain whatever answer she finds. 

Adora falls to her knees before the Horde throne, gripping at her legs and hiding her face in Catra’s knees, soaking the fabric. It’s possibly the last thing Catra ever expected her to do. If she didn’t know what the world ending feels like she’d think that this is it. It’s like Adora’s hands carve her heart out of her chest and any anger she still had left freezes over. She was right; this is so much worse. It’s the first time she’s touched her like this in she doesn’t know how long. She’s forgotten how it feels to have Adora touch her like she needs her; like she _wants_ her to be close to her. 

“Please, Catra, please say you’ll try I can’t - I can’t do this without you, I can’t _kill_ you, I’m not strong enough I - I told everyone I would do what needs to be done. I always do what _has_ to be done but I just - I can’t do _that_ , not to you. I -”

There’s nothing left to break inside her and yet the words and the pleading and the cracked cries are devastating in a way she’s never felt. Whatever shards are left inside her disintegrate under Adora’s voice and she sobs again, eyes begging for the release of tears she can’t give. 

She’s never seen Adora like this. And she supposes Adora’s never seen _her_ like this. Catra knows she’s as selfish as they come, so much in fact that she never even considered that Adora was hurting as well, beyond the pain that she inflicted. But here she is, Etheria’s saviour, Shadow Weaver’s golden child, broken and crying just like she is. Weak and unable to do what she’s been told she should do, just like her. She doesn’t think she’s ever understood her more. 

She can’t speak, but her thoughts are loud enough she might as well have said them: _‘I’ll try. I’ll be better for you. I can’t kill you either. I know I ought to. You’re all I ever truly wanted. I’ve spent so long denying that. Can you ever forgive me?’_

“Adora?” A head of blonde hair raises and even with her chin still on her chest, Catra can see the overwhelming amount of pure hope there. Sees it in the way her lips fall open, in the shine of her eyes and her hands that hold tight enough to crush.

Catra doesn’t say anything else, stares down at her own tear-darkened knees as she thrusts out her wrists. Her arms shake with the effort to keep them aloft, she hates it. She’s so fucking weak. And it’s not an answer but it is surrender. It’s an _‘I’ll try,’_ and it’s more than she ever thought she would admit.

She hears Adora swallow before she stands and Catra can see her legs shaking with the effort. She closes her eyes again, blocking out the source that just makes her want to hold Adora and never let her go. She’s never been able to do that. And she supposes she never will. 

“Y'know I don’t actually have anything to tie you up with.”

It gets her to look up, her arms shake even more and she lets them fall. Adora’s entire face is red and blotchy and glistening with salt water and she’s the most beautiful thing Catra’s ever seen. Adora wipes off her face before breaking into a small pained smile, she looks embarrassed and Catra doesn’t know who’s more shocked by the watery laugh it gets out of her. 

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

How can she still be the same? But she’s not but she is and... And there’s no point in trying to figure out where _her_ Adora is. (Even if her heart’s telling her she’s there in that damn smile.)

 _‘Adora was never yours and she never will be.’_

It doesn’t matter how many times the thought has occurred to her in the dead of night, it always cuts deep as a blade. Now is no exception. She knows Adora winces at the cracks she hears when she tries to stand, she hisses in a breath through her teeth. 

“Catra...how long have you been in that chair?”

“How long has it been since I killed Hordak?” She feels nothing when she says it. She’s a murderer. Maybe she always thought she would be. 

“I don’t -“

“- How long since I let Sparkles go?”

She can see Adora working it through - she always was easy to read. The reminder is like a slap to the face. 

“Catra... it’s been four days.”

She ought to be more shocked by that. It falls into the void of her emotions along with the rest. The only light left is Adora, Adora and gentle hands that are holding her arms. When did that happen? She doesn’t have the strength to remove them even though they burn white-hot. (She pretends Adora’s holding her this softly because she wants to and not because she’s afraid of breaking her or digging into the fresh slices on her arms.)

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll - I’ll go willingly.”

She realises she never wants to see this place again. Her whole body wracks with tremors when she tries to take a step, her legs give out under her but Adora’s there to catch her. 

_‘Where were you when I needed you most?’_

_‘She’s here now.’_

Why is nothing ever as simple as she wants it to be?

“Can you walk?” It sounds faded and distorted, like Adora’s far away, but she’s not, she’s right there. Four days - just a little longer and dehydration would’ve let her go. But Adora won’t, not now. She hates how sure of it she is. 

“What do you think, genius?”

Adora ignores the growl, bends down to get an arm under her legs and lifts her up. It’s so unexpected it shocks her silent. Adora’s meant to be predictable, she’s not meant to do things like that. (She tries so very desperately to ignore the part of her that says _no one_ should have this if it isn’t her. Turns out she’s too tired to fight that too.)

Adora is so close and they’re not fighting. They should be fighting. Catra should be tearing into her throat and drowning on her blood or scratching deep enough to maim. But she doesn’t, because just like every other time, she can’t bring herself to. Except now it wouldn’t even win the war, she’s lost either way. 

She wraps her arms around Adora’s neck, hiding her face in her jacket just so their faces aren’t so unbearably close, she breathes her in like they did as children, she smells the same under Brightmoon soaps. She’d lived with, clung to, the ghost of her scent for so long. She’d searched for it in their old room, anywhere she could think of until it was lost entirely. But this isn’t that decaying wisp of her she’ll soon lose, this is powerful and overwhelming and she wants to cry against it.

“You’re a lot lighter than the last time I did this.” It’s trying to be teasing, some vain attempt to get her to feel better maybe? She doesn’t know why Adora would bother to do that. It doesn’t work anyway; Adora’s never held her like this. 

“We’ve never done this.” 

_‘I wish we had.’_

“Portal.”

Makes sense, she supposes, Adora had to carry her to that skiff. That stupid fucking skiff in that stupid fucking portal. Gods she really fucked up didn’t she? How can Adora even bear to touch her? It’s because she’s always been the better one. Everyone always said so, and Catra’s always known it to be true. Her claws catch in Adora’s jacket, that same damn jacket. If this is the last time she’ll be able to touch her she’s going to make the most of it. 

(In a lot of ways she’s already waiting for the fall of it afterwards, for when she’ll have to go maybe the rest of her life without her touch or her smile. She should be used to it by now - the not having her - but she’s never been good at letting her go. Not when she left, not after the portal, and certainly not now that she’s in her arms.)

After the first few steps Adora almost trips over her tail where it hangs limp like the rest of her body, Adora winds it around her wrist and any other time she would’ve hissed or snapped at her for it. She’s just too tired and Adora’s arms feel too nice around her.

She tells herself a lot of lies as Adora carries her through grunge-green hallways; that Adora is purposefully not trying to rock her too much, that Adora would still offer to do this even if she could walk, that the miniscule back and forth motion of her thumb on her tail is intentional. There’s nothing left in her that’s able to fight her delusions. And, more importantly, she doesn’t want to. Not right now. Not when she can so easily memorize the way her breathing makes their chests move together. 

Time means nothing here as she floats on the high of Adora and the _’home’_ her scent croons for her. She thinks this might be the most content she’s been since Adora left all those years ago, and she’s glad her exhaustion prevents her self-loathing from making an appearance at the thought. 

When Adora stops and looks around for the third time, Catra realises she should probably be helping her navigate. But she’s selfish and the longer it takes them to escape, the longer she can remain here with her, safer than she’s ever felt. She doubts she would help anyway, the few times she is able to blink her eyes back open all she sees are swimming colours and shapes. 

“Just got to find the others and we’ll be home okay?” (she thinks) Adora whispers. 

The arm around her back squeezes tighter and she chokes out a purr because of it. She thinks Adora freezes again but her eyes don’t open to check. She manages to kill the rumble after a few seconds and Adora starts up moving again. Catra is sure she imagines the wetness that drips onto her shoulder and the light huff above her. She doesn’t think she could unlatch her claws if she tried.

Her ears flick back to the sound of a door opening. It’s too far away for it to be Adora, and any other time she would be instantly on edge. Four feet get closer and she relies entirely on hearing and smell (both delayed and distorted enough to disorient) to figure out who it is. 

“Is she dead?” Probably Arrow Boy. She doesn’t care. He’s not Adora.

“No. She’s coming willingly as a prisoner.” Catra knows she imagines the fondness in the words - it wouldn’t make sense otherwise. 

Having the words said aloud almost makes her laugh. But she’s just too tired to do anything, even dig her claws deeper into the jacket she’s holding like a vice. Sparkles and Arrow Boy probably ought to ask why Adora is holding her this way - or maybe she just wants them to ask. She doesn’t deserve this softness, not after everything. _She_ wants to know why.

“Do you want us to-“

“- No. I’ll take her.” There’s a bite in her voice: conviction. It makes her heart shift in her chest, like it’s trying to believe Adora still cares.

Even with her senses fading and her head screaming for sleep, she recognises the sharp crackling smell of Shadow Weaver instantly. Her heart thuds faster, and her entire body protests the involuntary way it wants to tense or run or claw - she’s almost thankful she’s too tired to do any of it.

With the way Adora’s holding her she can’t see the sorceress, still, she screws her eyes shut. But it doesn’t stop the choking power of her presence or the piercing lilt of her voice when she speaks.

“Adora, there's no point in taking her with us. She’s too -”

Adora all but growls, “ _She’s coming back to Brightmoon._ And if you don’t like that you can leave.” 

_‘She’s standing up to Shadow Weaver for you.’_

It makes the world stop. 

_“You never protected me. Not in any way that would put you on Shadow Weaver’s bad side.”_

She doesn’t know what she might do in response if she weren’t practically comatose. All she knows is that she wants to replace every pain-soaked memory from her childhood with this moment; Adora defending her again, Adora growling at Shadow Weaver full of righteous fury _for her_. 

Instead of a thank you her brain sings: _‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’_

She can’t seem to think anything else. And it hurts, it stings like blades and tears her apart like fire, but for once she thinks it’s okay. Just for this moment Adora is holding her like she loves her back and she can feel Adora’s racing heartbeat against her chest, and she can admit to herself that she loves her. That she always has and she always will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catra let herself be vulnerable!!! Adora asked for something she wanted (kind of)!!! Catra understands that Adora is suffering as well!!! Let the healing begin baby.  
> Feat. Adora telling Shadow Weaver to piss of part 2 of 2 and me knowing I'll be coming back to this chapter constantly and reediting because i'll never be happy with it.
> 
> Did I write dehydration and starvation accurately? No. Is Catra a different species and I can use that to justify a lot of my shit? Yes.
> 
> Side note: wrote an alternative version of this chapter which is why this is now a series. (I wanted them to kiss here but it would've been out of character so.)
> 
> Going forward I've got everything planned out (yes that's why the chapter count has jumped up from 9 to 15 oops), have no idea what's going to happen to my posting schedule when I go back to school. But this will be finished eventually.


	6. Walls: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora doesn't know how to feel about everything, and Catra...well she doesn't really seem to be feeling anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this so much. Anyway it's another longer one so forgive me. 
> 
> Unnecessary context: I personally think Adora realised she's in love with Catra somewhere between season 1 and 2 and then repressed that shit down. She saw healthy, loving couples and it kinda clicked for her and so she knows but ignores because she also knows she can never have it. (And doesn't think she deserves it anyway.)
> 
> TW: referenced past self harm (it's the claw thing)

***Adora***

She doesn’t want to let Catra go (when has she ever) but she has to. 

Glimmer teleports them back to Brightmoon. She looks as tired as Adora feels. Bow spins around, looking for Shadow Weaver, only to realise she was left behind. Adora’s grateful of it. But that semblance of a good feeling dies the moment Catra goes completely limp in her arms. (She never thought she'd miss the feeling of claws at her back quite this much.) She doesn’t bother hiding the sheer amount of panic she feels. 

_“Catra... it’s been four days.”_

Catra’s lucky to have even lasted this long. But she’s a survivour, always has been, and she’s not going to die to fucking dehydration. She barely gets out the, “Where are we putting her?” before Glimmer teleports the two of them into Shadow Weaver’s old cell. 

It feels wrong. So unbelievably wrong to leave her here. But even Catra knew she was going to be locked up, she knew she deserved it. Adora crushes the storm of thoughts and feelings down even further. It’s not so easy to do with Catra dying in her arms. 

Adora demands food and water, just shouting it to the air for anyone to hear. She knows Glimmer is there watching her - or maybe she’s run off, Adora doesn’t know - but she feels utterly alone. Fear and loneliness are the only things she lets live in her head right now, she wishes she could be as numb as this morning, but these feelings, they're her weakness. She’s never been all that good at suppressing either of them. It has her gripping Catra to her chest, burying her face in her shoulder and counting her heartbeats. 

She whispers, “Catra just hold on,” like it’ll make any fucking difference at this point. 

Every second that passes makes her shake harder. She doesn’t even have to think about whether She-Ra’s magic could bring Catra back from this; she could, no question. And She-Ra’s not here. 

_’If Catra dies it’ll be your fault.’_

She wonders how many times she can cry within the same twenty-four hours. 

Glimmer brings her what she not-so-kindly asked for, Adora can’t even look at her. She’s not sure why. She forces some water into Catra’s unconscious system while Micah sets up what will be her prison. (She hadn’t realised the others had returned and it somehow makes her feel worse.) Catra’s definitely not aware, but her body is at least awake enough to gulp the water down. 

She wants to stay more than anything, she never wants to leave Catra alone again. She wants to be here when she wakes up, wants to comfort her when she undoubtedly panics at the unfamiliar, incredibly open and bright surroundings. She’ll hate it. But she’ll _be here_ , in Brightmoon. Not miles away in the Fright Zone plotting against them. 

Except Adora’s exhausted from the burn out of adrenaline, fear and tears and Glimmer teleports her to her own room before she can say anything. As soon as she hits the mattress she’s asleep. Exhaustion taking her out, but not preventing the plague of nightmares that rally in her head.  
  


She doesn’t know what she expected, maybe she foolishly hoped having Catra even _near_ her again would make her sleep better. But she wakes suddenly three times in the night, tangled in suffocating sheets, and _still_ reaching for Catra at the end of her bed. There’s that loneliness leaking like ice in her veins, pure cold that takes hold in those early morning hours. She goes outside anyway, staring out at the stars and shivering.

She gives up on sleep altogether as soon as the first moonrise trips over the horizon.

* * *

She ignores the guards that tell her the prisoner - her whole body wants to reject the idea - isn’t supposed to have visitors, demanding they let her in. They put up less of a fight than she’s expecting, maybe she looks as crazed as she feels. (Or maybe Glimmer told them she’s allowed.) 

She’s scared again, apparently always scared now, when she opens the door. It doesn’t really leave when she sees Catra asleep, curled into a ball like she used to - and she’s not going to let herself fall like that. It’s far too early to get lost in memories. But she’s tired, she knows she’ll give in eventually. Already knows she’s going to wait for Catra to wake up.

She’s not leaving this room until she sees her eyes again unless she has to. She needs to know that she’s going to live through this. She worried about Catra when they were separated, the question of whether she was okay always playing in the back of her mind. She shouldn’t be surprised it’s not going away even as she looks at her. Adora sits, paces and lies drowning in her own worry and guilt. She can’t stop. 

Catra looks like a corpse; cheeks sallow from her body eating away at her muscle mass to survive. Her fur is scarily thin and dull, still matted with dirt and ash and blood and burn. With the moonrises the world gets a little warmer and yet Catra starts shaking in her sleep. It scares her more than it should, like a poison trickling down her throat. 

She runs from the room only to return quickly with a mountain of blankets. She doesn’t want to hesitate before crossing the magic barrier, but she’s terrified of how much this hurts. There’s _so much_ \- like a floodgate’s been opened, one she’s been barricading since the Battle of Brightmoon. And it’s worked up until now - she was able to bury most things regarding Catra after that. Even as she realised she’s in love with her, that she always has been, still she didn’t let that wall break. In fact she just made it stronger. 

She’s just got to do it again now. She’s not going to think about it. She’s going to walk through this magic wall and give Catra a blanket because she looks cold and for absolutely no other reason. As soon as she can force her body to move again that is. Because the sight of Catra this close and this fragile makes her feel sick. But a particularly violent shudder from the sleeping form and Adora’s body makes the movement for her. 

She’s far too gentle in the way she tucks layers around the enemy. ( _‘The enemy who let your friends go. The enemy who asked Glimmer to kill her. The enemy who surrendered to you, went with you willingly.’_ She ignores the burn in her eyes.) She doesn’t let herself touch Catra’s skin, almost afraid that she’ll shatter given the state she’s in. But gods does she want to. She doesn’t know if she’s ever _wanted_ like the way Catra’s made her want the past few days. It’s just another reason to be scared. Just another reason for her to be holding onto those barriers she’s built. 

She steps away from her, the magic of the spell prickling at her neck, but stays within its exposing walls. She wonders, not for the first time, why she could never hate Catra. She should. She tried to destroy everything both her and her friends love. But Adora loves her, more than maybe anything else (even if she’ll never know that) and so this - her destroying herself - makes some painful sort of sense. 

She should do a lot of things. She should leave this room and let Catra and her crimes and her own roiling feelings rot here. She should let her go and never think about her again.

She _can’t_ do any of it. 

Even before she’d seen Catra fall - tear - apart at the seams. She couldn’t do it, so how the _fuck_ is she meant to now? She knew Catra was hurting, figured that much out from the words that have been spat at her since she left, from the memories they’d been forced to relive. She just never realised how much, and she hates herself for it. Maybe they wouldn’t be here if she’d just _figured it out_. As long as Catra’s hurting, Adora will be trying to fix it. She knows that. 

But Catra hadn’t let her, had pushed her away even further and they broke. And Adora had finally accepted Catra’s choice to stay with the Horde. And now she’s here. Dying. Because Adora still needs to try and fix it. 

One action - not even a word - _indicating_ that Catra’s going to even _attempt_ to do better and she’s running back to her, every promise they ever made chiming in her head. There’s eighteen years of wanting to protect Catra, keep her safe, make her happy that she’ll never be able to get rid of. And for it she might get her heart broken all over again, but even a _chance_ to try and fix them is worth it. 

And just as there is resolve, there’s doubt;

_‘Maybe Catra was just lying to save her skin.’_

The thought disintegrates upon its birth; Catra wanted to die. This time it’s not just words she's hearing as if through water, she’s seen it. She can’t stop her body from recoiling at the memory, and it’s not just the sting of the magic as she passes through it that makes her feel empty.

She forces down every thought she has before it’s even formed with perfected precision. She starts towards the door; if she can’t see Catra then every image of her decayed, shaking body won’t scream at the edges of her mind. (Even if the way her heart races says otherwise.) Her hand freezes on the door handle when she gets there. She’s paralyzed again. She wants to _break it_. It’s not fair.

She’s trying to leave, like she should’ve done long ago, so why - 

She hears the weak rattle of Catra’s breath behind her and crumbles. The floor is cold when she finds it, she can feel the metal on the door like a blade on her spine as it presses into the ghostly scars on her back that have yet to leave her completely. She stares at the ground, unable to bring herself to look at the woman who right now just seems immune to the defenses she’s spent so long building. She can ignore her own thoughts as if they’re said by some stranger on the other side of a wall, can pretend her wants are merely dreams she has to let go in the daylight. So why can’t she stop thinking about _her_? 

About how yesterday was the first time in months that she’s even seen Catra. How it had to be a reunion upon death’s door and they’d walked away alive and _together_ again. Catra who hadn’t judged her for breaking because they were the same - both fighters not really knowing how to fight anymore. Not only had Catra let Glimmer go, asked her to kill her, she surrendered to _her_. And it feels like a balm on her heart for all the times Catra said she’d never go with her, how she’d watch the whole world burn so she wouldn’t win. 

She let Adora talk, touch, _hold_ her again. She laughed and cried in front of her, _with her_. She _purred_ in her arms, Catra was happy, or at the very least didn’t want her to go, and she swore it had her heart wanting to burst out of her chest. Gods why does Catra have to give her so much hope? And so much pain. 

She said she wouldn’t think about it. Guess she’s a liar now too. It’s _all_ she can think about. The buzz of those last walls as they come crashing down sound like symphonies. She looks at Catra again, she’s too weak not to; she’s not shaking anymore, she’s not even moving. 

This time she welcomes the fear, if only because she knows she has no other choice. It’s suffocating. Has her breath scraping against her throat as she tries to get it to her lungs. Catra looks dead from here, still as stone. Minutes pass and she doesn’t hear anything past the roar in her head. She thinks she wants to throw up but all that she tastes is bile. 

Catra’s alive, she knows she is. She saw the rise and fall of her chest not ten minutes ago and yet she wants to rush to her side and check her pulse. Her whole life she’s wanted to be close to Catra, but this feels different. This is drenched in cold, unknown terror and ‘what ifs’. She hadn’t realized how much those walls were hiding. 

_’You want to be there in case she dies and you never get another chance to.’_

Everything feels like lead and the bitterness coats her tongue, her teeth ache from how hard she’s clenching her jaw, and yet she moves. Everything trembles but the next time she hits the floor she’s close enough to hear Catra’s breathing. And even though it rattles in her hollow chest, it’s enough for Adora to just fucking _breathe_. 

She just - she just can’t lose her again. Not like this. There’s a quiet click against stone and she realises the tears flowing from her eyes. 

She wants to hit something; she wants to stay here forever and never have to face the outside world again. She wants to scream and she - she wants to hold Catra in her arms again, lay her head on her chest until she wakes up like she’s never done before. She wants to see her eyes and her smile, hear her laugh and the rare rumble of her purr that’s always been something of a drug to her. She wants all of it again. She bites down on her tongue to hold in the sob that’s begging to escape.

“Why do you have to be everything I’ve ever wanted?”

She doesn’t know why she says it out loud, even less so why she expects an answer.  
  


* * *

The moment Catra’s eyes flutter open Adora is on her feet. The coughs that are drawn from cracked lips make her panic for no good reason. 

( _‘There is a very good fucking reason, she’s on the verge of dying.’_ )

Adora doesn’t know whether saying her name will help - she’s honestly not sure if Catra’s even fully conscious yet - so she stays silent, practically bouncing out of her skin because she can see them again. _Catra’s eyes_. There’s something so undeniably soft in them and something inside her just _melts_.

She’s not even upset when that look dissolves; she’s just happy she had it at all. It’s replaced with something akin to fear, Catra’s whole body tenses and she tears the blankets off. She winces with the sudden movement, biting at her lip in a way Adora knows means she’s trying to hide how badly she’s hurting. Adora watches, frozen, as something triggers one of Catra’s senses. Her ears, already back, flatten against her head, her tail lashing while she hisses at...Adora’s not really sure. It’s just _something_ and she wants to know so she can make it better. 

Once more, she’s through that barrier, endlessly grateful it’s only meant to keep Catra _in_ rather than her _out_. 

“It’s okay Catra, it’s just me.” She doesn’t know if those words will bring the comfort they once did, but it’s the only thing she knows how to do. “You’re safe, you’re in Brightmoon.”

Unsurprisingly that doesn’t make Catra’s bristling fur go flat again, her teeth are bared as much as possible. It makes Adora halt her path. Catra looks _feral_ ; thin-slitted eyes set heavy in the shadows on her face, claws tangled in the blankets that are strewn around her on the chair. And she doesn’t know what to do. 

It’s painful how quickly it brings her back to the reality of the situation. This isn’t a Catra she really knows how to comfort anymore. Catra won’t want it (she never acted like she wanted it even before the fallout, it never stopped her from giving it.) She doesn’t know what applies now, but Catra likes her space, that she’s sure hasn’t changed. She crosses the spell-line again, telling herself it’s not a retreat borne of fear or cowardice.

It takes a minute of Catra carefully cataloguing her surroundings before her lips come back over her teeth, ears returning to normal as she sinks into the chair reluctantly. The silence still stretches and Adora’s determined not to be the first one to break it. Turns out she doesn’t have to wait that long. 

“Didn’t think you would be here.”

Adora can’t read her tone at all past the cracked mutter that it is. She can’t figure out if Catra’s upset by it or not is what bothers her the most. She definitely should’ve considered Catra not wanting her here after everything (she knows she should feel that way too.) She doesn’t want to go but if that's what Catra wants then...then she’ll do it. 

“Of course I’m here.”

_’Where else would I possibly be?’_

Maybe she said too much with that because Catra seems to scrutinise it, eyes narrowing when she doesn’t say anything else. Adora crosses her arms over her chest, feeling all too exposed under Catra’s gaze. (She hates that she’s missed it.)

Catra opens her mouth but all that escapes is a cough that rips through her fragile form. It hurts Adora to watch. 

“You need to drink something.”

The first time Catra tries to retaliate nothing comes out, proving her point, but the next go she manages to whisper, “I don’t _need_ to do anything,” devoid of any and all emotion. 

How is this lifelessness worse than her hating snarl?

“Catra -”

There’s a growl loud enough for Adora to stop talking. (Even that isn’t what she expects, it’s flat, doesn’t show on her face.) She really should know by now that telling Catra what she ‘has’ to do practically guarantees she won’t. Even when it’ll save her life apparently. 

She’s horribly reminded of everything Catra _didn’t_ say yesterday. Not a _‘sorry’_ \- though she expected that much, Catra’s never apologised for anything in her life - not even a _‘I’ll do better’_ said aloud. 

“I’m such an idiot.”

Catra wasn’t expecting that, it’s obvious. And in fairness, Adora wasn’t expecting herself to say it out loud. But she has. And the anger she’s been ignoring demands she say anything at all to make Catra understand how she’s feeling. (Even if she’s not really sure herself.) 

“Y’know I thought yesterday might have actually meant something to you.”

_’It meant so much to me.’_

Adora doesn’t know what fuels the way Catra curls into herself, why her ears drop, why she turns away. Her claws tug at the fabric on her legs and Adora hates how it makes that fear come ricocheting through her once more. She doesn’t trust Catra not to hurt herself again, maybe it’s just worse because of the blood that stains the fraying edges of torn black sleeve covering her arm.

After far too long, Catra whispers, “It did...” into her knees.

“Then act like it.” It’s not what she expected to come out of her mouth, but she’s half glad that it did. It’s laced with the venom Catra’s been giving her these past few years. She can’t bring herself to care. 

Until she does. Because Catra _shakes_ , and she looks just like she did when she was young; vulnerable and scared. And that undying voice calls from within Adora’s heart again. She’s wondered so many times where the Catra she used to know is. She’s right here. And there’s heartbreak in this silence. 

She knows what’ll happen if she reaches out now, has the memory of long-gone scars to prove it. It doesn’t stop her wanting to. It never has.

She’s not going to apologise, but she shouldn’t want to in the first place. She makes herself a promise then: she’s not going to apologise until Catra does. She doesn't care for what, anything is all she’s asking for. (Except she’s not asking, she knows better than that.) It might very well never happen. But she meant what she said yesterday; she’s not making excuses for Catra anymore. 

It glues some of her shattered resolve back together. Allows her to uncross her arms and say, “I’ll go. I know you don’t want me here. Please just...eat, at least drink something.”

_‘Please don’t let yourself die.’_

Catra doesn’t emerge when she says, quietly, “Why do you care?”

“You’re an idiot if you ever think I stopped caring.” For words that should be almost sweet they come out with that same latent anger. 

She knows she’s said too much, curses herself and remains frozen for what feels like hours as she waits for Catra to respond in any way she can read. Catra seems to stop breathing and it _shouldn’t_ make her panic this much. She just wants Catra to look at her again. But she doesn’t, and Adora doesn’t know what else she expected. Her whole body sags with the sigh she lets loose. 

She forces down the reflexive _‘I’m sorry’_ that almost comes out. “Fine. I’ll just - I’ll go.”

As much as the _‘I’ll go’_ was for Catra’s sake, she needs it too. She can’t be here, not when Catra can’t seem to bring herself to look at her while everything inside of her just wants to sink into her arms like they did as kids. Not when she’s like this; cold, distant, absent of fight. That sickness is churning in her stomach again when she walks to the door on surprisingly unsteady legs. 

She stops, staring at the handle again, trying to force herself to open it when there’s a sound behind her. Except this time it’s not the rattle of Catra’s breath as she stays suspended in death-sleep that halts her. There’s a shuffling and the clink of claws on the floor and she just can’t stop herself from looking back. She doesn’t turn, not fully, just enough to look over her shoulder as her fingers grip the handle all too tightly. 

Catra only meets her eyes for a second but as soon as she turns away she drinks from the bottle that’s been sitting on the floor of her cell. It’s the biggest relief Adora’s ever felt. She wants to collapse against the door as the feeling threatens to knock her legs out from under her. 

Because it’s not just that Catra’s choosing to live, it means that she’s going to have to live with the consequences of what she’s done. She’s going to _try_ and yesterday wasn’t meaningless and full of empty unsaid promises. 

She hates this _love_ that comes crashing through. She needs her walls back, maybe more than ever. But even as she exits the room and closes the door behind her, sees the guards pretending not to have heard anything (she doesn’t actually know if they did,) she feels it through her whole body. 

That stupid hope she’s never been able to get rid of sitting like a light in her chest, whispering that she’ll find home again eventually.

* * *

She knows if things weren’t so weird between the three of them, Glimmer (and Bow as the mediator) would’ve cornered her and asked about yesterday. She can picture the conversation clearly in her head:

_“Why were you like that with her?”_

And she’d scramble for a minute trying not to expose (or hurt) herself too badly, before saying, _“She was my best friend for a lot longer than she was my enemy Glimmer.”_

And Glimmer would say something like, _“She’s still our enemy, Adora.”_

And she’d be able to tell them that no, Catra’s going to try and be better. And she’d probably smile like the lovesick fool that she is. And maybe they’d figure it out and maybe they wouldn’t - she wouldn’t say anything either way. 

But it won’t happen. Because there’s still an uncountable amount of fractures between them they have yet to sew back together. But oddly it’s just another thing that adds to the hope; for the first time she has everyone she loves around her, and through some unexplained miracle, they all seem to be willing to try and fix things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this technically count as the third time I write Catra temporarily dying? Like she didn't _die_ but it's close enough.
> 
> Yeah school started again so uploads are gonna be a mess. I'll try and do a chapter once a week but we'll see how that goes. (But if I finish chapters do y'all want them as soon as possible or not?)


	7. Trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The show never addresses things like bathrooms for prisoners in the little circle prisons so neither will I. 
> 
> Also there's more runestones that we don't see in the show - there's 12, one for each moon - and it's never addressed past the first season? Which makes the whole Heart activating with the runestone connections a bit weird because Light Hope only shows the ones for the Princesses we see? Idk was gonna bring it up but didn't want to get into that whole thing.

  
***Catra***

One of the first things she had realised about her frankly obscene prison is the smell. Old soot and electricity like a stain in the air; Shadow Weaver and something subtle (but much fresher) she’s come to know as Double Trouble. If she were anymore dramatic she would think it smells like betrayal. 

So they’d been captured and held here. She doesn’t know if that makes her feel better. She doesn’t care; it doesn’t matter now. With the war over they’re long gone either way. She tries to figure out if the thought of never seeing them again hurts, it takes her a while to figure it out, but yes. Because she’s weak, and she misses everyone who leaves her, even if - _especially_ if - she shouldn’t. 

She thinks a day has passed since Adora came to see her, but she’s not really sure. She’s been brought three other meals, all by a faceless guard, and she thinks she’s rightfully wary of it. Even if they are Princesses, the good guys, she wouldn’t exactly blame them for wanting to poison her. But they won’t and she knows that. It’s just that nothing in her mind can justify a prisoner eating three meals a day. 

The momentary visits are the only things keeping her aware of time passing at all. Other than that, it’s hazy. There’s hours of gaps in her memory where she must’ve just been sitting here, bored out of her mind while she waited for something.

_‘Someone.’_

_‘Shut up.’_

She can ignore her thoughts all she wants, a day later and she’s still bundled in the blankets Adora must’ve gotten her, drowning out the smell in the air with that of _her_ that is slowly fading from the fabric. But even Adora's scent isn't enough to rid her of the knowledge that she's alone in a prison that was once Shadow Weaver’s. 

In a lot of ways it’s similar to that of her old Fright Zone cell. There’s still the dilute magic hanging in the air that keeps her on edge, sets old memories tiptoeing along the edges of her mind. That horribly familiar unrest in her bones reminding her she should be dead is back again, once more reminding her that it’s only because of people who are so much better than her that she’s not. 

This is worse though, it hadn’t taken her that long to come to that conclusion. Because while the green humming metal cage she’d been thrown in was awful, the Fright Zone was still home at that point. She’d found some corrupt version of solace there while she waited for her end. Brightmoon is not home. It’s too quiet, too open, too fucking bright. There’s a painful sort of exposure here that drags out her regrets with nothing to hold them back, no noise to focus on, no distractions at all. 

She’s relied on shadowed corners for a lot of things in her life; they can hide her, she can blame them. She was never safe in shadows - the witch made sure of that - but she felt at least safer, could keep her guard up easier. There’s not even walls in this cell, nowhere to turn that will mean no one sees her.

But, of course, there’s one other, much starker difference to last time: Adora. Because it ultimately always comes back to her. It simultaneously feels like everything and nothing has changed. She’s still angry at her, still hurts, still hasn’t forgiven her entirely but everything feels more distant than usual. She blames her fragile state above everything else. There’s nothing else that would allow her to admit, even to herself, that this prison is simply better because she has Adora nearby. She didn’t have Adora in that metal coffin they’d tied her up in - she doesn’t have her now either, not really - but even the memory of her presence is able to make her feel better. 

She hates it. It’s pathetic really. 

But it’s _Adora_ and she...she is - was - a lot of things to Catra, for Catra. A friend, the closest thing to family she’s ever known, a rival, an enemy. But for the longest time she was her safety, her haven in the raging sea of misery and black magic. And she’s always been too weak (too stubborn, too self-destructive) to forget the lightness Adora brought her completely. Smother it, she definitely did that, tried to choke it out with her own anger like blood. And just like seemingly everything else, she failed to do even that. _Adora_ and everything she used to mean cling to her soul like an ink stain. She can feel it, warmth like a candle inside her even now, as she rots in this room, alive because Adora asked it of her. 

It makes her want to laugh to an empty room, that bitter, pain-filled one she’s gotten so good at. She can only hope that with time it’ll get better. Without sharing every moment of every day with her, and without the war keeping her obsession and pain excruciatingly present, maybe it’ll get better. She’s got nothing but time to find out.

She’s still too weak and deathly to move, only doing so to eat when food is brought. Or what counts for food in Brightmoon apparently, because it’s all liquid (which she’s secretly thankful for, she’s not sure her withered stomach could really handle anything else right now.) 

Funnily enough, it’s still better than anything she ever managed to scavenge in the Fright Zone, even as Hordak’s second-in-command. Hordak. She hasn’t thought about him that much, simply because she doesn’t want to. In the scheme of things it feels almost small. She wonders how differently this would be playing out if she’d delivered the final blow herself instead of that rubble. She doesn’t dwell on it too much. 

His blood has long since been gouged out from under her claws, but the stain of it still lives on her fur along with the ash and smoke. She’s just too tired to get rid of it completely, even with the origin of it crawling around in the back of her head, it’s helping keep her grounded. It would be so easy to believe none of this is real otherwise. 

Her eyes start burning and she realises she’s been staring at the same spot on the floor for...well she’s not really sure how long. It’s been a day (she’s pretty sure it’s been a day now, the shadows, what little of them there are, keep getting shorter) and she already hates this room. Beyond the uncomfortable exposure, the sheer intensity of light hurts her eyes, whenever she turns it changes and she has to adjust all over again. 

After the fifth time she just gives up, screwing them completely shut but still feeling the whiteness even behind her own skin. It’s better than before at least. She curls in tighter, claws catching in the blankets as she bundles into them further, too tired to bother lying to herself about why.

She hears a dull echo of footsteps in the corridor that come to a halt. She doesn’t exactly trust her own senses, so there could very well be an exchange of hushed words, but she hears none, just more steps and then the click of the door. She doesn’t even have to look up to know who it is; there’s no one else who would come to see her anyway. (And besides, Adora was never good at stealth exercises.)

Catra tries to casually drop the blankets, opening her eyes (hissing as she does) to look back at that same spot on the floor. But as soon as she does, the diluted smell of shadows crawls back into her senses and seems to trip every response she has. She hates it. She hates it. She hates -

The wind that curls through the room from the balcony (a ridiculous thing for a ‘prison’ to have really) blows Adora’s scent towards her. She’s glad she’s had the past day to get used to her again, even this much is overwhelming. She valiantly ignores how her head tells her it’s home, just trying once more to fill her senses with anything other than lingering black magic. 

It’s not that being around Adora doesn’t hurt - it does, tears her heart from her chest before sewing it back in again - it’s just that of two options, she’d pick her over and over again. (She can’t believe there was a time when she would’ve had to consider those options, but she’s not _that_ good of a liar to convince herself otherwise.)

“Morning.”

A _“Hey Adora,”_ trips on her tongue. She swallows it down. She just...she can’t say her name. She’s had all of one day to adjust to _thinking_ about her again, and even that causes a storm of thoughts and feelings and memories so powerful it makes her want to break and shatter and tear. But her name holds a power she’s never understood; she shouts it sometimes when she’s torn from sleep, it plays over and over in her nicer dreams, as rare as they are, makes things boil over inside of her that she’s never wanted. 

And _gods_ she wants to cry just looking at her. She knows there’ve been an uncountable amount of moments where she’s cursed the hold Adora has on her, this is no exception. 

It shouldn’t be this fucking hard just to look at her, just to _talk_ to her, to say anything at all. But it is. Because she’s weak and a slave to her own emotions just like Shadow Weaver had always said. Fucking Shadow Weaver.

“Where is she?”

Adora blinks at the unexpected (and unexplained) bluntness of the question, Catra doesn’t care. It’s a distraction full of thorns, but a distraction all the same from Adora and her sky-steel eyes Catra’s missed so dearly.

“Who?”

“Who do you think?” She spits with enough venom for even Adora to get it. 

There’s hesitation then, “She left.”

_“She’s coming back to Brightmoon. And if you don’t like that you can leave.”_

She’s surprised, thankful and angry at the fact she can remember everything that happened that day. (Even her own deluded, exhaustion fuelled admissions she’s not ready to relive.) But those words struck a chord, tattooed themselves into her head and her heart without permission. After all, it’s what’s allowing her to even try this at all - trying to be okay with this tempest that Adora conjures inside her. But there’s a consequence, of course there is, she knew she’d have to face them if she were to come here. Might as well start now.

“The witch really hates me that much…”

Adora’s almost frantic in her response, “No! No, Glimmer told her to leave. We don’t need her power with the war over and she’s hurt most of the people here in one way or another so we got rid of her.”

The reassurance leaves her cold. Shadow Weaver’s gone. She’s locked up in her old prison while the ‘good guys’ let that monster go free. Her claws snap out and tear into the cushion she’s sitting on. Adora, to her credit, doesn’t look all that shocked. Just confused. 

“Thought you’d want her gone...”

 _‘What I want is for her not to hate me, for her to apologise for everything she’s done.’_

She knows better than to hope. She just hopes that the stench of her will leave this room in its entirety eventually, and soon.

She pries her claws from the burst cushion and the flurry of feathers that spill out from it, ( _‘Wait, they put feathers in pillows here?’_ ) and sighs. She uncurls as best she can but stiff limbs render it harder than she’s expecting. 

The way Adora’s looking at her catches her off guard; expecting, open, attentive and listening for anything she has to say. She has no idea how to respond to it all. She feels like she’s falling for a few seconds with just how alien it is. Sure, she’s seen it before, Adora always one for a good story. But it’s been years, and she’d honestly forgotten that that look even existed. 

She bites down the, _“Stop looking at me like that,”_ she wants to snarl out in response to her discomfort. Her heart’s not in it, and it’s not worth the fallout afterwards. (And besides, it really has been so, so long since she’s felt like Adora’s properly _seen_ her. She knows it would feel nice if she could push past her defenses enough to let it in.)

Still reeling, and grasping for anything to say, she figures she might as well ask about the other one as well. It’ll at least give her something to think about when she’s alone again. Anything other than Adora and her own mistakes. 

“How much did you pay them?” The look shatters and she’s thankful. 

“What?”

Gods is Adora going to be shocked by every question she asks her? “Double Trouble, how much did you pay them?”

Another long pause before Adora sighs and shrugs weakly, “More than you.”

She doesn’t bother responding, it’ll only make her feel worse.

Adora doesn’t stay long, mumbling something about reparation planning and seeming unable to bear the silted silence. Catra pretends that as soon as she’s gone loneliness doesn’t come creeping back like an old friend. She pretends she’s not hanging onto the smell of ‘home’ in the air before it fades with the wind.  
  
  


* * *

***Adora***  


  
“Why are you here again?” 

_‘Because I’m weak, because I miss you, because…’_

“What, didn’t think I’d come back?” She tries for something like teasing but it falls flat. It always seems to do that now. 

“With your track record, can you blame me?”

It hits her like a kick to the stomach. She’s expecting it to be said with anger (the only emotion Catra’s actually shown since getting to Brightmoon aside from her morose numbness) but there’s none there, just that resigned sigh that she’s becoming more and more acquainted with. Though she doesn’t want to be. 

It’s already been a week since that day and she’s managed to keep herself away from Catra for most of it, this only being her third visit since she woke up that second day. She’s not proud of herself for her near minimal self-control. It’s been awful, sometimes the distance feeling larger than the divide of a war. The only time she remembers feeling this lonely is those first few weeks after she defected. But she hasn’t seen Catra in two days, every time she finds herself back in ‘her’ hallway she grapples onto her pain to drive herself away. 

It’s exhausting. At least with the war she was usually so busy she didn’t have time to think about anything else. But now...well, it’s been a week of forcing Catra from her head. And it’s not seeming to be getting any easier, she’s not sure if she’s surprised by that or not. 

She’s not comforted by her old pattern so much anymore, where she’d be wrestling thoughts from her mind under the cover of night. Mostly because it isn’t working so well right now, she can’t think about anything without it somehow circling back to her. But she’s adapting slowly, out of necessity and nothing else, keeping her mind as blank as possible when usually it would be full of battle plans and training regimes. 

And yet even that blankness cracks eventually, leading her right back to her door and the jewel-glow of eyes she’ll find behind it. She didn’t have an excuse ready when she opened the door, and she’s regretting it now. Why does she never think things through? Now she’s just standing here, answerless, and depending far too much on her own walls - walls which have been failing her more often than not recently.

“I -” 

There’s nothing she can say without breaking something. Her own heart being the most likely victim. (Or that promise not to say sorry.) She ought to say no, she doesn’t really blame Catra for thinking like that. She doesn’t actually say anything. 

Catra’s...disappointed (she can’t really tell anymore) sigh just adds to her growing heartache, “If you don’t want anything you might as well leave.” Adora’s sure she imagines the sadness that tinges the words. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Adora squashes down the anger she feels as Catra curls up once more. It’s just an excuse really, the anger, something she’s forcing herself to feel instead of the painful grip Catra’s always had on her heart.

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not talking.”

Catra huffs and gets up - she thinks it might be the first time she’s done that with the way her legs shake - she stalks around the back of the tall chair only to stop. Adora sees her tail fall still and limp and she hates the way she worries. She follows the walls of the spell around, slow enough that Catra won’t be startled, to see what’s happened.

Catra’s just standing there, staring out at the night sky, looking more relaxed than Adora can ever remember her looking. 

“Adora, what are those?”

Something stops, she’s not sure what. It’s the first time Catra’s said her name since she’s gotten here. She doesn’t mean for the audible hitch in her breath to happen, but it does, and it’s too late to take it back now. She can’t remember the last time she felt this...light. She wants to hear her say it like that; free of anger and betrayal, everyday for the rest of her life.

But this is a fleeting thing, and she knows it. She’ll take whatever she can get.

She doesn’t stop looking at her when she answers, “They’re stars. When Scor- when all the main runestones activated, portal capabilities came back online and we got sucked back into the rest of the Universe.”

She’s glad she stopped the name before it slipped out fully, it would’ve broken the wonder on Catra’s face. Her ears are soft, her eyes wide and there’s almost a smile on her face and even with the Universe glittering and stretching out beyond them, she thinks none of it can compare to Catra beside her. The realisation rips the air out of her.

_‘How? How can I still love you this much after everything?’_

She wants to scream it. She can’t, she can’t do anything but stare through a wall and choke on the want making a home in her throat.  
  
  


* * *

  
***Catra***

  
She hates that she expects Adora every hour of every day. It’s not quite a hope that she’ll see her, but it’s close enough that that self-loathing litters her head. But Adora doesn’t show everyday. She’ll wait and wait, and think and think and Adora doesn’t come. And it hurts, despite this being her expectation. 

Stupid Adora making her hope for the first time in so long. She’s not sure if she’s missed the feeling. But the tugging in her chest is as incessant as her thoughts are loud. Which is to say, very. Brightmoon is so quiet compared to what she’s used to, it took her far too long to realise it as another source of her undying discomfort. 

She’s sure it’s been something like two, nearly three weeks but somehow she hasn’t ran out of food for her thoughts. It’s exhausting. Yet she can’t sleep, not well anyway. It’s too cold, too quiet, too lonely. 

What with so much time to herself, she’s come to realise things she misses, it (surprisingly) being one of the less painful topics she’s managed to come up with. One of those things just happens to be the barracks she grew up in, just sleeping with people close by. She realised on something like day four how much she despised her Force Captain’s quarters, the emptiness of it. Sure, she liked the privacy, but looking back, the shitty sleep she’s had for the past two or so years just wasn’t worth it. (Not that she exactly slept _well_ in the barracks, just better.)

She misses people she never thought she would; Lonnie, Rogelio, even Kyle. About five days ago she’d given up on barring back her feelings about Scorpia and Entrapta, finally letting herself just miss them. She’d spent the next two days just sifting through memories for something to do. 

Because thinking (and star gazing now that she can walk around again) really is the _only_ thing to do in this circle that’s maybe, what, four meters in diameter? It’s fucking tiny - it’s a cage after all. And she has to fight down feeling like an exhibit when Adora comes to see her every couple of days.

And then there’s Adora. Because there always is. Adora and the things she’s done, the things Catra’s done, the feelings she has. 

And like with everything else she’s trying to be okay with it. She’s fucking _trying_. But she’s spent so fucking long digging into and relying on her hurt and denial and self-loathing and every other bad thing that comes with...with _loving_ Adora, and then laying in her own self-destruction, that she doesn’t even know how to start _not_ feeling like that. 

Gods _loving her_. It - it...she can’t even begin to untangle the thorn-filled mess of her own feelings. Every time she dared to even think the words before left her bleeding and her surroundings torn and broken, a distraction from herself that would last long enough for the denial to come back. But now it - she hasn’t really got anything to break, no escape from herself. And the strangest, most confusing thing? She doesn’t really want to. Sure she _wants to_. But it doesn’t feel like she’ll die without it anymore. Still, there’s tears in the corners of her eyes whenever the words appear.

But days pass and she pulls apart that knot a little more, finding ends of threads and laying them out. There’s not much good to have come out of her pensive musings, it reiterates her heartbreak a hundred times a day. But it’s okay. She’s growing used to the pain in a way she never let herself get used to before. And whatever jagged edges are left get smoothed down a little more every time Adora comes to see her.

There's never going to be a day where the fact that Adora doesn't love her back is going to be okay, but maybe, eventually, it won't hurt. Maybe one day Adora will care about her again. Because she's lying when she says that now, she has to be. There's no way Adora can care after everything she's done. At one point, when she really wanted to hurt, she tried to imagine their situations reversed; how would she feel if Adora had done the things she had. The answer was painfully easy; she'd still love her the exact same. It took hours for the screaming urge to shred everything she can lay her hands on to die down. 

But in spite of all that (or maybe because of all that) she’s getting better. Somehow, she, _Catra_ is getting better. Frankly, she finds it unbelievable. But she hasn’t felt anything even close to this melancholy peace before in her life. Everything bad is still there, ready and waiting. But she ignores it, listens to it without acting on it. 

If Adora could somehow see inside of her head, she hopes she’d be proud. And just like that another thread appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The yearning is strong in this one lads. Think this is the most introspection-heavy chapter I've ever written, I really tried to make the timeline believable. A few weeks alone with the only contact you have being the woman you're in love with while you're trying to work through your feelings? Imagine that would be a little difficult tbh.
> 
> (Feat. Adora making sure they give Catra soft foods so she can actually eat because love.)
> 
> Now the next chapter can either be one longer one that will take a while to do or three shorter ones, up to you guys.


	8. Bow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next 3 are all gonna be Catra POV cos it was gonna be one chapter just so y'all know. Also Catra has the self-worth of a fucking rock which will not be changing for a good while
> 
> Very important side note: Bow is best boy :)

***Catra***

“Hey Catra.”

If she’d actually been able to sleep here since that first night, she would have jumped awake at the unfamiliar voice. But any amount of good sleep still annoyingly evades her. Which she would be fine with - she can survive it easily - but as a consequence her senses aren’t as sharp as she’s used to. Every noise that happens within her prison is painfully loud, while everything outside it seems unbearably soft. It’s disorientating to say the least. 

She doesn’t do anything but squint at the boy as he walks deeper into her prison. She’s not going to let him see just how unexpected his visit is, but it has her head whirring just the same. 

He has absolutely no reason to be here. The only times they’ve ever even interacted were when she was trying to kidnap, escape or kill him. Coming to see her would make at least some sense if there was a malicious bone in Bow’s body; a person she’s hurt coming to shout or even laugh at what she’s been reduced to she could understand. Who wouldn’t be glad to see how far she’s let herself fall? But she already knows from experience that he’s incapable of even _thinking_ like that. 

And even if she didn’t know that, he’s fucking smiling. At her. (It’s small and wary but it’s still a smile which makes zero fucking sense.)

“What are you doing here, Arrow Boy?” She really does try to keep the accusation out of her voice but that numbness she’s been hanging onto has all but left her in the past weeks.

He hesitates then shrugs, “Thought you’d be lonely.”

There’s more honesty in that than she’s expecting. He’s so open, acting like it’s easy. She remembers how nicely he treated her the few times they’ve actually interacted (and subsequently how awfully she returned his favours) - maybe she was a fool for expecting anything else other than dangerous earnesty. Not that she was really expecting _anything_ , he shouldn’t be here.

But it’s not all of it, she can tell as much, can read in his face how unused to lying he is. She manages to keep the venom out when she says, “I know when people are hiding things from me okay, there’s something else.”

“Maybe I’m hoping I’ll get through to you.”

She chokes the laugh she wants to let loose down to a short huff, “Don’t think there’s much to get through to anymore.”

It’s maybe a bit more than she was ready to reveal but it’s too late now. And it’s accurate, more so by the day. All the regrets that swarm in her head during those endless hours alone consume her more and more everyday. It feels like they’re waiting for something. She’s terrified to find out what. 

“I don’t believe that.” 

Gods he - he really, actually believes that. It’s _so obvious_ , and he doesn’t care. She blames her exhaustion for the way her brain short-circuits trying to comprehend it. It doesn’t sink in. She accepts that it simply _won’t_ pretty quickly. Instead focusing her attention and apparently limited mental capacity on wrangling her tongue back into moving. 

“Yeah well, you Princess types are a bunch of bleeding hearts aren’t you.”

He’s entirely unswayed by her bite, persistently present when a strained silence falls. She keeps her head perched on her knees, arms around them, trying and failing not to look at the eyes she feels on her like a bruise. (She reasons that at least she’s managing to keep her growl suppressed in her chest.) The determination hasn’t left him (she’s pretty sure it’s just a part of the Princess package at this point) but it morphs with the quiet - softens. 

“Not saying I forgive you for everything you’ve done, but...I want to believe that you’ll make good on what you said.”

Her ear flicks. “And what was that?”

“That you’ll try and make up for it.”

She almost forgot that that was kind of part of the agreement. _Almost_. It’s been a distinctly unforgettable (but still ignorable) little whisper in the back of her head, getting a little louder whenever she stares at the crystalline magic of her cell walls too long. She’s thought about it, not much in the scheme of things, but only because the conclusion was so easy to come to. There’s one glaringly clear course of action for her and she’s already doing it. 

“And you know what? I can do that by never leaving this room ever again.” 

_‘At least that way I can’t hurt anyone else.’_

She knows her ears drop, knows too much is written across her face. She’s too tired to stop it, instead turning into the chair more so he can’t see her. (Gods does she miss walls.) Bow seems to deliberate what to say after that, she takes some minor satisfaction in shocking him. 

Doesn’t last long though.

“Adora was worried about you.”

There it is. The full truth, or as close to it as she’s going to get. He looks like he expects her to hiss or something similar, she doesn’t blame him (it’s what she did the one and only time he dared bring her up during their limited time together.) But she doesn’t even want to now, she just curls inwards at the way her name makes it feel like he’s picking at a hole in her chest. 

Somehow she knows she’s going to be playing those words on repeat for _at least_ the next two weeks. 

“She’s on a mission to Salineas, did she tell you? I know she comes in here every couple of days, she acts like we don’t know but...”

(She doesn’t really know how to react to the information that Adora is hiding things, albeit badly, from her friends. Something like, _‘She’s ashamed of you,’_ and _‘Maybe she's breaking the rules by coming to see you,’_ are the only conclusions she’s able to come to in such a short time. The second of which is dismissed rather quickly given what little else she knows. Unfortunately that really only leaves her with the first option. Just another thing she’ll be thinking about later.)

“She...might’ve mentioned it.”

_“I’m going away for a week, but I’ll be back okay?”_

She hates that she can remember her only thought being, _‘I’ll miss you.’_ Because apparently this time spent alone and bored out of her mind has destroyed her ability to lie to herself. 

Instead she’d said, _“You promise?”_

She’d meant it as a joke, slightly bitter but there was really nothing she could do about that. But Adora picked up on it, because of course _that_ was when she decided not to be dense. She responded with unexpected intensity, just so typically _Adora_ that it had her heart jumping in her chest. 

_“I promise.”_

Even thinking about it makes her feel better, like a salve on a wound. She wishes it didn’t but...

Bow brings her out of her momentary revery, “She didn’t ask me to come, but I could tell she didn’t want you to feel lonely in here. And neither do I.”

She...has absolutely nothing to say to that. It _should_ be a lie. She can handle lies - hates them, has heard far too many - but she knows what to do, whether to bite her tongue or not. This though, maybe she needs to make a list of incomprehensible, violently Princess-y things she just might never understand. But not right now. She’s too tired. Gods she thought talking to _Adora_ was exhausting. (It is, just for different reasons.)

It’s a strange turn of events that she willingly turns her thoughts back towards Adora. She reasons that it’s because she doesn’t know what to say in response to Bow and his...everything. But she knows Adora, even after all this time. At least that much has been evident in their short time together again.

(There’s a lot of reasons why that is both a good _and_ a bad thing, she’s spent hours tugging on those strings already and now is decidedly not the time to work on the knot that still exists in her head.)

“Adora’s too selfless for her own good.” There’s equal amounts joy and sorrow inside her when she says that, love and pain mixing in equal measure. “And I’m guessing you’re the same.”

He ignores her deflection which is...irritating. She can think about Adora now but actually voicing any of her own thoughts, or gods forbid feelings, regarding her sounds near impossible. She really doesn’t want to talk about - 

“Adora just cares about things - that’s not bad, Catra. And it doesn’t make you weak like the Horde told you.”

 _‘Oh that’s fucking rich.’_ She barely manages not laughing in his face at the sheer absurdity of that. But manage it she does.

“Caring about things is what got me in this mess in the first place,” comes out instead. 

She’s struck then by a memory; a year or so earlier, rotting in that Fright Zone cell, Scorpia saying something so very similar, if not the exact same thing. (She stomps down the ache in her chest that still comes with thoughts of Scorpia.) It’s painful knowing the rise and fall that follow it. 

“Trust me Arrow, this isn’t the first time I’ve had this particular conversation.”

She would declare it a too revealing statement if he knew absolutely anything about her, but he doesn’t, and it feels oddly safe to say. Maybe it’s the barrier between them she keeps forgetting other people can actually pass through simply because no one has, not even Adora. (She doesn’t blame her for that, she’s not even sure how _she_ would react to Adora crossing that boundary. Honestly, probably not well.)

It’s quiet again for a good while. Half of her relaxes a little into it for some reason, the other half just becomes more on edge.

“Hey can you pass me one of those?” 

She looks around warily because honestly there’s nothing here for her to give him, unless she’s missed something, which would be more annoying than anything else. It takes her probably too long to realise he’s referring to the mountain of cushions she has - most of which are scattered and slightly shredded on the floor by now. She reaches down and throws one through the barrier without a second thought. 

She watches as he drops it onto the floor, his body following, all the while a smile on his face. 

She knows she’s glaring when she says, “What?”

“You didn’t have to do that."

Huh. Guess she didn’t but...she has. (And it’s only then that she remembers that he can in fact just cross the walls that barr her freedom. The simple fact that he didn’t is - well she wouldn’t expect it from anyone else but Adora. Unless he’s too scared to cross into a space where she could hurt him which is...fair, everything considered.) 

“Now what?”

Bow’s resulting shrug should infuriate her, she waits a moment for irritation to make an appearance but she remains cold; absent of pretty much everything. Guess that numbness hasn’t left in its entirety after all. 

“You really didn’t come in here with a plan?” Actually that makes sense, she scoffs, “Y’know what I’ve seen you guys fight, don’t know what I expected.”

“We’re good at fighting!”

“You keep telling yourself that.” 

It’s not enough to get her to smile, but there’s at least a twitch in her cheek that lets her know that she wants to. That in itself is surprising. So much of today has been surprising actually; the word seems weak. 

She flops back into her carefully constructed pile of cushions and other bedding that she knows were just kind of thrown in here. (And yet it’s still the softest thing she’s ever felt because Princesses or whatever.) It smells like her, more than her Force Captain’s quarters ever did. It’s strangely disappointing how her prison of nearly four weeks is more of a home to her than that room ever was. Not that she’ll ever tell anyone that. Especially not the boy who’s sitting quietly five feet away from her, messing with something on his trackerpad. 

(Clearly Entrapta’s design and oh doesn’t that make her feel worse. She knows the Princess isn’t dead, that Adora and Bow saved her - a conversation that happened early on that left her sinking deep into her own self-loathing. Just another one of her mistakes Adora had to fix.) 

She listens to the little clicks and beeps, ears flicking towards them everytime. She didn’t think she would miss noise, but anything even a little new is welcome at this point. The sounds, calmingly repetitive in nature, blur after she’s not sure how long, and she manages to relax further into the ridiculous armchair. 

It’s not quite _comfortable_ but considering the company and the circumstances and strained history, she thinks this might be the best they’re able to obtain. She likes it. She hates that she likes it. But as she’s found out, she’s not as good at lying to herself as she once was.  
  


It’s so much easier to admit things to a white ceiling than anything else. She’s learnt that in excruciating detail. She blames her solitary for the next thing that breaks the silence aside from the occasional beep or static hiss.

“I know it’s kind of you guys’ whole thing but...why are you being nice to me?” 

She doesn’t know what soft, vulnerable part of her makes her say it, but she knows when she finds it she’ll be shoving it as far down as it’ll go. (Forgetting entirely that that is exactly what she is meant to _stop_ doing. Four weeks isn’t going to change _that_ much.)

She’s still not looking at him when, “Adora -”

“- Asked you to come here, didn’t ask you to be nice.”

_‘Even she knows I don’t deserve it.’_

“No. I _decided_ to be nice to you. Because you’re a person and you deserve a second chance.”

There’s no lie in his eyes but it doesn’t matter, just because he thinks it's the truth doesn't mean that it is.

“I don’t.”

This long alone and trapped with her mistakes has proved that sentiment’s truth over and over again. She’s already had chances and she’d spat in the face of every single one. And sure, she knew why at the time, but now, without the rage there to justify? If she lets herself feel all the regret she wants to, she'll drown. 

Bow’s mouth opens like he’s about to argue, which is honestly quite laughable, but she cuts him off, voice all too weak, “But thanks, for giving one to me anyway.”

He smiles almost as much as Scorpia. (It’s not a reassuring realisation.) “Thanks for taking it.”

“You don’t know that I have yet.”

“You just said ‘thanks’, can’t imagine the Catra we captured a over a year ago saying that.”

He’s got a point about that annoyingly. Stupid pride. Somehow she’s managed to keep it alive in her prison, but it’s quieter. That much is obvious from the fact that she’s even talking to the people that come and see her. (She didn’t exactly offer Scorpia that same courtesy.)

That twitch is back in her cheek when she mutters, “I would’ve rather thrown myself off a cliff than do that.” 

“You _did_ throw me off a cliff, but - I was gonna say ‘who hasn’t’ but you’re the only one actually.” And yet he’s smiling when he says it. Gods is he confusing. 

She shrugs, “You kidnapped me. And I would say it was nothing personal but we’d both know that’s a lie.”

She’s not sure what he would’ve said in response if there wasn’t a horrendous (but familiar) set of beeps from the electronic pad, it has her ears flat against her head. Bow stands, throwing the cushion back through the barrier. She doesn’t have time to be shocked by that before -

“Sorry, I gotta go, Entrapta needs me in her lab - issue with reprogramming the bots. I’ll be back tomorrow okay?”

He’s smiling and waving one second, gone the next. She doesn’t have time to get anymore words out before she’s left alone again in her own mildly stunned silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bow is just the bestest boy and I stan ok?
> 
> I know it's canon that Bow is a good liar considering he lied to his dads about his whole life for years but shhhhh Catra's used to being lied to. (And yet she can't tell that Adora's not lying when she says she cares about her smh)  
> Also started bringing in the whole thing about Bow and Glimmer kinda unintentionally enabling Adora's selflessness because oo boy that's a whole thing.
> 
> Hopefully next one won't take too long cos it's _meant_ to be short. (But I kinda have this habit of making thing way longer than planned so be prepared for that I guess.)


	9. Here's To Getting Used To It

  
***Catra***

She’s not sure when she started expecting Adora to come and eat breakfast with her, it’s only been a month for fucks sake, but here she is, staring out at the slowly dimming stars in the growing moonrise and waiting for her just like she’s done everyday for the past week. 

It took her a while to realise just why this waiting leaves her stomach churning. She knows it’s fear now (she hates that it’s there, but she hates a lot of the things that live and crawl around inside her head so what’s one more?) She’s scared of Adora not coming; of feeling like she’s left her all over again. Because it’s happened, only once, but it happened. And it wasn’t until the next morning that she could finally convince herself that Adora doesn’t hate her entirely. 

That hurts in it’s own way she supposes. Because Adora should and she should be able to just accept that. (She more than deserves it.) But Adora doesn’t, because she’s just _like that_ apparently. She always was better than everyone else, it’s just one of things that hasn’t changed about her. Maybe it was why she fell for her initially, but it certainly wasn’t what kept the feeling going. Unless you can love someone for the very same reason they hurt you, which all things considered, wouldn’t be unbelievable.

Of course there _are_ changes. There’s a new hardness in Adora’s eyes she knows she mirrors - a war will do that to you. ( _‘One that you waged, one you kept going…’_ ) Things that weighed her down before have been replaced with new burdens, ones Catra doesn’t know, ones she can’t fix for a while by dragging her to somewhere high above the Fright Zone.

But Adora looks healthier, which she figures is probably due to the food if the effect on her own body is to be explained. The lights - so painfully different to the dull grey of the Fright Zone - means that her longer hair shines more, sometimes looking molten in the moonrises. She gets enraptured by it occasionally, transfixed by the steel in her eyes and the gold in her hair. Because she’s pathetic and can’t listen to her own head when it tells her to stop. 

She thinks Adora’s gotten taller as well, not that she has anything concrete to compare her to in this room. She’s definitely filled out more - which she hates that she’s noticed but… Her gangly teenage limbs have gone, meaning that she doesn’t look so uncomfortable in her own body anymore. That at least is nice. 

But enough is the same that she doesn’t feel like she’s talking to a stranger. The shades in her eyes, the shape of her smile those rare times she lets it show, the way she bounces her leg when she stays in the same place too long; Catra knows those things better than she knows herself. (Although considering all this time alone, that might change soon, which is a slightly horrifying sentiment.) 

Her skin remains free of any lasting bruises and scars just like it always did - she realises she probably has She-Ra to thank for that. If Adora scarred every time she hurt her, well, she probably wouldn’t be able to look at her without crying.

Of course this nostalgia she finds herself nursing daily isn’t exactly comforting. She’s _trying_ to distance her own feelings. Not ignore, not deny, not smother; distance. She fully accepts that they’re there, that as long as she lives Adora will have her heart. But she keeps them away, won’t let them show. Nothing good will come of that. She’ll lose Adora all over again, driven away by _Catra_ instead of her own morals this time. 

And as with fucking everything, it’s hard, and painful and tiring. She wakes from terrors in her dreams shouting Adora’s name and can't calm until she manages to find something with her scent. It feels like she’s failing herself. She hates that she still _needs_ her after everything. Adora doesn’t _need_ her anymore ( _‘As if she ever did.’_ ) And that’s fine, Adora’s always had the power in their relationship anyway, always been the one making decisions; she’s used to it. Despises it. But used to it.

Adora comes just as the fourth day-moon appears on the horizon, it’s later than usual. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

She still can’t say her name, not when she’s looking at her anyway, that night with the stars had been her first and only slip up. It’s just another way to make herself hurt, and she’s already got plenty of those. Not even the disappointment in Adora’s eyes is enough to get her to do it. (Why Adora’s disappointed, she’s not sure, but she’s seen the look enough times in her life to know exactly what it is.)

Adora crouches and slides the tray through without a word, and she responds by throwing her a cushion to sit on through the barrier, same as always. (Gods now there’s an _‘always’_ , she really is fucked.) 

“You’re late you know,” she says after Adora’s sat down. 

She thinks she succeeds in the nochulance, covering up that fear that’s quickly dissipating from her chest with a casual bite of...she’s not really sure what it is, but it’s really fucking good. 

Adora hums around the food in her mouth before swallowing and saying, “You miss me or something?”

“I was just hungry, don’t let it go to your head.” 

She’s not sure how, but her voice gives her away. _‘Not because I like you,’_ coming through, it’s lying nature with it. She wonders if Adora knows just how false the statement always was - still is.

She pretends she’s not addicted to the small smile Adora has balanced on her lips during these moments. It’s easy enough to do - to ignore the spike in her pulse when she sees it, tamp it out like a flame deprived of air.

She takes another bite. “Bow came to talk to me, multiple times actually.” 

She hasn’t brought it up before now, she’s not sure why. Maybe she was trying to get used to the idea herself. But it’s a pretty safe thing for them to talk about, and there’s not exactly many of those.

She doesn’t miss the way Adora’s eyes flit to her and back down again. “He said. How, um, how was it?”

It takes her a few seconds to gauge why Adora seems nervous (the way she stops eating for the moment tells her as much.) There’s a brightness in her eyes as she waits for her answer, somehow she knows that Adora is trying to stop herself shifting around. She really shouldn’t find it this cute that Adora wants her to get along with her friend. 

_‘Why would she want her friends to be around you? All you do is hurt people, you’ll ruin them as well.’_ It makes her tail snap against the armchair. 

“Surprisingly bearable.”

She really does try not to stare at the way Adora momentarily chews on her lips before she says, “Would you...be okay with him coming to see you again?”

She tears her eyes back to the food in her lap, taking another bite before, “Not like I have anything better to do.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Gods she can see the way Adora deflates a little, that energy that was starting to leak out of her suddenly gone. She wants it back. Because of course she does, she _cares_ about things now (she always did, she’s just letting herself admit it.) Honestly realising she wants Adora _happy_ after everything was probably _the_ most shocking moment of her life. 

And she’s been making an even bigger fool of herself ever since, retracting words far too often when she sees the damage they do. It’s not apologising but it’s the next best thing (and more than she’s ever done before.)

She sighs at herself, audibly and long, “Alright, _maybe_ I wouldn’t mind talking to him again.”

She almost regrets it just for the fact that she can’t breathe when Adora looks at her like that. If there weren’t a barrier between them she knows she’d be digging her claws into her thighs to stop herself from hugging her (or something worse) - she’d probably fail, only last minute turning it into a tackle to save herself.

She misses that - how easy it was to touch her before everything. And sure, there were things she’s never - will never - be able to do, but whatever she got, she took gladly. She misses rough-housing with her, the way they'd both be laughing like maniacs the whole time. Now she has nothing but a wall and it’s opalescent blue that disrupts her features. 

_‘That’s still more than you deserve.’_

She ought to be more surprised that it sounds like Shadow Weaver, but the witch is always somewhere in her head. A little whisper that gets louder the more attention she feeds it. (She _really_ needs to stop feeding it. But she knows that’s a weak hope at best.)

She shakes herself out of whatever smokey haze she was in, rubbing at her eyes as they readjust to the still-increasing light. 

“Hey, you okay?”

_‘Why do you care?’_

“Just tired, can’t sleep. Not used to -” she just kind of waves around her head, “Y’know, smells, sounds, even the light is just…”

_‘Why are you telling her this? It’s not like it matters.’_

Adora gets up then, leaving her food on the floor. She’s never seen Adora leave food, ever. She stops herself reacting in any way other than a worried flick of her ear, following every movement Adora makes till she’s at the wall. Catra’s not sure what she does but one by one the lights fade until all they’re left with is the illumination of daylight through the solitary window. 

It takes her a second to realise that Adora’s talking, all too mesmerized with that little bit of kindness, wholly unnecessary. Those feelings bubble up in her chest and she forces them away. She can’t even get a _“Thanks,”_ out past it. 

Adora comes back and Catra manages to tune back into what she’s saying, “...I get it. I’m still not really used to it, still don’t sleep well without -” Adora’s eyes widen and she freezes, a small flush appearing on her cheeks, distracting Catra from what she’s saying entirely, “Without the, um, noise. ‘S too quiet here…”

It’s not a big thing for her to admit, not really. But it feels like it. It sounds like, _‘I haven’t forgotten where I came from,’_ which is stupid, but she can’t stop it from meaning that in her head. It’s just another one of those little things that remind her that the Adora she knew - knows - is in there.

She’s not sure how long it’ll take, but eventually she’ll consider this version of Adora her best friend again. She’s already tripping over that line - it’s not even a line at this point, more a blurry, muddy mess where her memories begin and end. The loving and the missing and the hating and the anger get more and more confused every day. Because yes, Adora hurt her - they hurt each other, she’s always known that - but she’s still the best thing in her life. Back then and now (even in the middle most of the time.) 

No one’s ever come close to replacing her, even if she wished it so. Gods she’d tried (not as hard as she should’ve) to see Scorpia like that; trust her and care about her the way Scorpia wanted her to. The way she had begged her own rage-ensnared heart to. Scorpia; loyal above all else, unending blind faith in those she loves. She thought that was what she wanted, of course she was fucking wrong about that.

Adora, Adora, Adora. Bloodstain on her heart. 

Gods she’s pathetic.

The glow is still present on Adora’s cheeks, though it’s fading. Catra’s almost upset that her head is tilted down so she can’t see it properly. It’s then that she realises she is definitely staring and should probably (absolutely) should stop that. She counts; it takes her seven seconds to do so. 

_‘Why is it so hard to stop looking at you?’_

She can hear it in her teenage memories clear as a bell. She kind of wishes that _had_ changed. She swallows before trying to actually respond to the last thing that was said. (The words of which are quickly slipping from her memory.)

“Well if _you_ can’t then there’s really no hope for me is there?”

“You’ve always been better at adapting than me, you’ll get the hang of it.”

There’s no way she can read the small frown on Adora’s face. She’s not sure if she wants to know why it’s there. She just wants it gone. 

Apparently she thinks picking up her glass of water and raising it in a mocking toast is the best way to do that. Adora flicks between her eyes but a smile tugs on her lips and that’s all she needs to be able to say:

“Here’s to...getting used to it.”

And just like that Adora’s grinning like an idiot and the almost-gone fading red on her cheeks is just making her eyes bluer and just...fuck. Catra thinks she’s almost smiling as well, which again, fuck. Of course this is the first time she’s come close to a normal smile and it’s because of Adora, of fucking course. Really she shouldn’t have expected anything else. 

Adora follows suit though, raising her little cylinder glass full of water, “To getting used to it.”

She can’t look at her when she brings the glass to her lips.

* * *

When the daytime moons fall that night it’s something akin to dark for Catra for the first time in a month. Her eyes don’t burn white behind her eyelids. She feels safer in the almost-darkness, like she can finally uncurl from the tight ball she’s made of herself every night. 

It’s the easiest sleep she’s had in months (even before Brightmoon she was so terrorized by her own conscience that it wouldn’t let her go even for a night.) She doesn’t lie there for hours, tossing and turning, she drifts, able to hide behind the blackness of her own eyes. It’s not good sleep, but it’s better. She doesn’t dream at all.

She mumbles, “Thanks Adora,” into her blankets when she wakes, ignoring the way it makes the splinters of her heart tremble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah Catra's inner monologue is gonna show up more, there is a plot reason for this I promise, it's not just for the angst.
> 
> Also Adora just wants to fall asleep with her again and it's very sweet. (They will snuggle eventually just wait.)


	10. Glimmer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Context: It’s been a day or two since the last chapter. Bow has been to see Catra again. (He was very sweet about it because he knows Catra basically asked to see him again and he 100% did hearteyes and she spent the whole visit trying to keep her aloofness.) 
> 
> You get to project! And you get to project! Everybody gets to project!  
> Yeah so Catra and Glimmer be narrative mirrors in season 4 and season 1 Catra was queen of projection and I’m using that to validate this chapter okay. 
> 
> I feel like I should put a trigger warning since I would count this as a form of self-harm because guess what? Catra’s really hurting herself here just not physically. Also Catra's still suicidal but not actively if that makes sense.

  
***Catra***

It’s only been an hour (she thinks) since Adora was here for their morning...whatever it is that they do. It was uneventful and easy, had her basking in a silence not consumed by her own head for once. She’s still floating in it, mind mercifully empty.

She’s relaxed, or at least she is until she hears magic, unsure of where she recognises it for all of one second before the Princess - Queen - of Brightmoon appears before her. She manages to keep herself still, not jumping away from her like her body demands due to sheer shock. Aside from that she can’t keep her reactions in check; tail lashing, claws out, fur bristling, hiss on her tongue. She kills most of it within a couple of seconds. 

She waits for the Queen to say something, feeling increasingly exposed under her soundless gaze but determined not to snap. She’s deluded herself into thinking she’s better than that now. She counts silently to twenty-three before;

“What no comment?”

She almost sighs in relief that it wasn’t her who said it. 

“Is that what you want from me?” It’s carefully blank. 

There’s a scoff, arms crossing over her chest, “I don’t want anything from you.”

Oh she’s heard that _many_ times throughout her life. This seems to be the first time it’s a lie.

“Oh Sparkles, you wouldn’t be here if that were true.”

“Wanna put that to the test Horde Scum? I can leave right now, and you’re not really in a position to turn down visitors.”

She doesn’t have the energy to spare on her obvious snark. “You wanna leave? Then leave. I’m not going to stop you.”

_‘Not like I’ve ever been able to stop people leaving before.’_

She can see Glimmer turning over the idea to go in her head, clear as day. She’s looking at the floor, hands on her hips when Catra asks, “Does Adora know?” 

The name doesn’t make her feel like she’s chewing on glass anymore - she’s not sure how she feels about that. 

“That I’m here?” She nods, not bothering to look the Glimmer in the eye. “No. My Dad does, but he’s the only one. I’m just - I messed up with her and Bow a while back, maybe I figured you’d understand.”

‘Messed up’ didn’t even begin to cover the things she’s done. She hums some sort of agreement, she doesn’t care if the Queen hears it or not. It takes a while (she thinks minutes but this time she’s not counting) but Glimmer sits on the ground in her peripherals, the same cushion her other visitors take - all two, now three, of them. 

It’s silent for a painfully long time. It’s not comfortable like it was this morning with Adora, not even that almost-relaxed setting she’s managed to obtain with Bow now. It’s tense in a way that has her body just wanting to _move_ , but her own wariness prevents it. She hates that her body is preparing for a fight but the unexpectedness of her arrival means that there’s adrenaline buzzing in her veins for the first time in a month and it doesn’t seem to want to shut off. (She’s missed how awake she feels.)

As the pressing quiet extends, a growl rises deep in her throat, slipping through her teeth for a second before she reigns it in. Glimmer looks up sharply and she almost panics - she didn’t mean to do that. Instead she covers it with;

“Gods Sparkles, are you going to just sit there or are you gonna talk?”

She doesn’t miss the way Glimmer’s hands ball into fists in her lap. “Are you going to listen?”

She shrugs, “Don’t exactly have a choice.”

It takes a long time, not that she was exactly expecting anything else. There’s an annoyed sigh then, “I set off the Heart.”

_‘Yeah I know Sparkles, I was kinda there.’_

“Hmm.” Not as confrontational as she could be. 

“You know it was meant to destroy the planet?" 

She...didn’t actually know that. 

“No.”

"There wasn’t really a chance that it _wouldn’t_ but I - I did it anyway.”

So that’s why she’s here, well that makes a little sense she supposes.

“If Adora hadn’t broken the sword, we would probably all be dead now.”

Maybe it’s the name but, “So what? You here to have a heart-to-heart with the _other_ person who almost destroyed the world? Yeah sure, let’s just bond over the biggest mistakes we’ve ever made, that’ll be fun.”

Sometimes she forgets that non-hybrids don’t growl because she’s waiting for it with the way Glimmer looks at her. 

“Gods you’re the worst.”

“It’s been said.” 

So many times. (Usually by herself.)

“Fine. I just, I guess I wanted to know how to forgive yourself after something like that.”

She almost laughs. The Princesses are even bigger fools than she assumed if they think she’s _forgiven herself_. How can she? It’s not even a possibility at this point. She just curls in tighter, just like those first few (many) times Adora came to see her. 

“I can’t help you with that.”

There’s another sigh, one loud enough to make her ear flick. “This was a mistake, should’ve known better than to think you’d help.” 

Glimmer gets up, staring a moment before stepping away. It’s only the shower of glitter from her hands that reminds Catra that that is abnormal, that if she’s not teleporting then there’s a reason. It’s almost funny how easy she is to read. It’s almost painful how much of herself she can see in her. Can see the way she needs someone to push back - she probably doesn’t get a lot of that here. 

At least that she _can_ help with. It’s a strange half-kindness, to pick at wounds till they bleed. It’s an outlet; a way to feel when you’re surrounded by your own walls. One she knows all too well, and one she can offer. Maybe the only thing she can offer.

She uncurls slightly, voice lilting in the way that always made the other cadets turn and _threaten_ , “Thought you Princesses were better than that, you all spew that ‘feel your feelings’ crap and then run away from me when I’m powerless and trapped? You have nothing to lose here, and you’re still a coward.”

It works as intended, Glimmer turns sharply, as close to the barrier as she dares. There’s still magic seeping out of her fingers and a flare in her eyes that Catra knows; the kind that’s wordlessly begging for a fight. And she’s all too happy to give it to her. 

“I’m not a coward, and I’m not _running away._ Not like you, you ran away from the only good thing in your life to chase a fucking power trip!”

_‘How much did Adora tell them?’_

It doesn’t matter, because as much as it stings, makes the blood of her own rage well in her wounds, there’s too much in her voice for it to just be about her. There’s that edge of self-loathing, something unnamable in her eyes, something that demands to be met. And Catra’s kidding herself if she thinks she’s going to back down now.

She stands, walks swiftly to the barrier (only dimly realising this is the closest she’s been to anyone in a month.) Tail lashing again matched with a venomous grin, she can’t help it, whatever it is Glimmer’s feeding, she feels it to. Black and aching and familiar in her chest. There’s more magic, it spills onto the floor as Glimmer glares down at her claws where they twitch at her sides.

“What, like you did?”

Glimmer doesn’t know how to hide the emotion in her eyes evidently. 

“You don’t know anything about me Horde Scum, you’re weak, you’ve lost everything, and it’s your own fucking fault!”

She growls, “ _There we go_. Get angry, shout at me, I fucking deserve it!”

“I don’t -” 

Even when she’s offering a vein and a blade to them, they’re still _too nice_.

“- I can take it.”

There’s a moment's hesitation. Magic sputtering out in Glimmer’s hands before it’s thrown at the floor in a blast. She doesn’t even flinch.

“You ruined everything! The only reason the war went on as long as it did was because of you. People are dead, homes and lives are gone, destroyed because of you and your plans and your weapons and your fucking pride! And look where it got you, a cell in _my_ castle, with nothing left because you already _fucking took it all_.”

Her head screams like a brewing storm. She needs to hear this. Hear how terrible, unforgivable, destructive and hopeless she is. Adora lies, Bow’s too kind - she doesn’t believe a lot of the things they say. Glimmer though? She can believe this. This rage and hurt and blame that washes over her like acid, feels right as it tears her apart. 

“My mother’s not here because of you! My dad’s been gone my whole life, he fought everyday just to survive long enough to get home and when he finally returns he’s lost her. I have a whole kingdom to run - an alliance to lead - and a planet to start healing and I have no fucking idea what I’m doing! My friends don’t trust me anymore, I let myself get consumed by my own fucking need for power, my own need to prove myself and it’s all your fault!”

And just as she sees herself, she sees a red mask and shadows, because she’s heard so much of this before. 

_‘You’re worthless.’_

_‘It’s your fault.’_

_‘You’ve wasted everything you’ve ever been given.’_

_‘If it weren’t for Adora…’_

_‘You’re lucky to be alive.’_

She closes her hands over her own ears to try and block out her voice but, as always, it doesn’t work. She doesn’t even know if Glimmer’s still speaking, couldn’t pick apart the things in her head if she tried. It takes ahold of her tongue before she stop it. 

“I know, okay! I fucking know! I’ve been trapped in here with everything I’ve ever done wrong for a fucking month. There’s so much I can’t even fucking sleep! You think I don’t hate myself? You think I don’t wish Adora had killed me when she was meant to?”

Whatever Glimmer had bubbling under the surface dies, magic stuttering out. The burn in her eyes stays though, she knows it's not from the lights, or even the magic so close to her. Her breath is raw in her throat, she doesn’t want the air in her lungs. She doesn’t want Glimmer looking at her like that.

“Wait you still feel like that?” 

There’s shock, there’s concern, there’s softness. _She doesn’t understand_. She turns, only because she can’t fucking run. They’ve taken that from her.

_‘They didn’t take anything - but you did. You did this to yourself. This is a paradise compared to what you deserve.’_

There’s rage throbbing in her chest, a reaction to the hurt; a defense. But she can’t get a grip on it. It’s that numbness again, she doesn’t know whether she’s missed it or if that heavy iron weight taking hold of her is dread. 

She swallows round the panic coating the back of her throat. “I’ll tell you what I told Bow; Adora’s too selfless for her own good.” 

_‘She doesn’t want to be here with me. She just feels like she has to.’_

“If I knew the guilt wouldn’t destroy her, I would’ve made her do it.”

_‘Thought you wanted to destroy her?’_ She wants for Glimmer to say it. She doesn’t. 

She’s not sure why she’s telling her this; maybe it’s just because she’ll listen. Maybe it’s because Glimmer saw her, blood-soaked and beaten but alive enough to still put up a fight and she just didn’t. Maybe it’s because she sees herself in a Princess - in a friend Adora left her for - and it’s simultaneously a comfort and a horror. 

But it’s too late to retract what she’s said. Too late for her to pretend that she doesn’t hate herself, to pretend what she’s said is at all a lie. 

She doesn’t know where to go from here (if there even is anywhere _to_ go) and neither does Glimmer. She doesn't need to be looking at her to know that.

Her legs start shaking - she’s not ready to find out exactly why yet - and she lets it be the excuse for why she drops down to the floor on top of three or so pillows. She lies down fully, still safe from mauve eyes and the emotions she doesn’t understand that live within them. At least like this she doesn’t feel so much like a coward - she’s not hiding completely this way - the blankness of the towering ceiling once more providing a haven. 

Glimmer doesn’t join her back on the floor, there’s discomfort rolling off her in waves, Catra can practically smell it. She’s honestly surprised she hasn’t just teleported away yet. She would if she were able. But then, for all the similarities she can see on the surface, there’s one stark difference; Glimmer is good. And she’s...not. 

She stays like that until her breathing levels out again, ignoring everything swirling in her head, forcing a blanket down on all that she’s feeling. It’s remarkably easy to employ the old technique, but there’s cracks, fissures her self-destruction will exploit as soon as she’s alone. 

She’s still staring at the ceiling, flat on her back when she says, “Feel better?”

Glimmer’s shocked by that - what part of it, she’s not sure. But she can hear in the way the Queen exclaims, “What?” that it’s at least somewhat genuine. 

She traces cracks in the ceiling with her eyes. 

“You’re easy to read you know. You needed that, I could tell.”

_‘I think we both did.’_

“I...How?” 

There’s shame laced in within the few words, a small admittance feeling all the more larger because she wasn’t expecting it in the slightest. She doesn’t grace her with an answer. She won’t want it anyway. Who would want to be told they remind her of herself?

There’s a frustrated huff tinged with exhaustion rather than anger though. She takes that to be a good sign - maybe she was able to help someone after all. Maybe she can be some caricature of selfless if she tries. It makes her think of Adora. It makes her want her here, proud of her for trying. She can still dream at least it seems. 

“Should I say thank you?” 

There’s uncertainty there, and something genuine. _Too nice._

“No.”

“Should I leave?”

“That’s probably for the best Sparkles.”

She’s cracked enough to admit there’s no venom in the name at all. For anyone else but them it would almost be soft, kind even. Friends with a Princess - the notion doesn’t sound as impossible and repulsive as it once did. She doesn’t know who she blames for that yet, but she’ll find out. 

Her ears flick towards the swallow she hears.

“For what it’s worth, sleep well Catra.”

It’s not until the tell-tale shimmer of magic as Glimmer leaves that she realises how significant that is. It has her huffing a disbelieving laugh to the empty room she's been returned to, idly wondering if she’ll ever see the Queen again. Wholly unsure what she wants the answer to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been haunting me throughout all the planning but when it came down to writing it, it was actually fine. Now for the actually hard part; the aftermath. I mean the next chapter, all the planning I had for it was one line and now it's two chapters.


	11. Aftermath: Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look at that another big chapter that started as a single bullet point and then I had to split it oops. (This is the short part)
> 
> Self improvement is not linear people okay!  
> (In the memory Catra's about 15/16 years old and she already knows she's in love, there's a link to my fic that shows Catra's whole 'falling in love' journey in the end notes)
> 
> TW: Catra has a panic attack, past self-harm (no actual description of it happening), thinking about self-harm, one line of dehumanizing language

  
***Catra***

Her conversation with Glimmer won’t leave her head. 

Instead of dissipating like it should, the feelings grow; she doesn’t know what is feeding it, but it’s black and full of smoke and shadow. It doesn’t take her all that long to realise it’s the memory of Shadow Weaver. Her hate and the way she made her feel; worthless, never good enough, a pet on a leash she loved to throw around for fun. It makes her want to scream. 

It’s only been a couple of hours, she just needs to wait out the storm but for now...she’s trapped in it. 

_‘Why did I do that?’_

_‘Why did I help her?’_

_‘Why did I hurt myself to make her feel better?’_

_‘Why did it make_ me _feel better?’_

_‘Why? Why? Why?’_

There’s so much _noise_. She can’t suck air in quickly enough. Her eyes burn; whether through the tears she knows are falling or the lights overhead. It makes her hiss and she can taste the metal in her mouth where her fangs cut something.

She needs to break, to tear, to destroy. She wants to scream her throat raw and bury her claws in whatever will give. But she can’t. She knows she can’t. It always got her in more trouble than it was worth. 

_“If you’re going to act like a rabid animal then you’ll be put down like one.”_

The only thing she’s allowed to destroy anymore is herself. Funny how that’s always been the case - she just never listened before. She almost does it, her claws beg her to. But it remains as just that; an almost. 

Because despite the panic-ridden fog and venomous words and remembered black magic making her limbs shake, there’s _her_. The heartbroken fear on Adora’s face when she saw her bleeding the only time she turned her claws on herself rather than the world around her. She can’t see it again. Can’t hear the shake, equal parts fear and fury, in her voice when she asked what happened.

_“Who did this? Catra who hurt you?”_

And gods the horror when she told her.

_“I did.”_

_“Catra I don’t understand. Why -“_

_“Can you get me some bandages from med? You know they won’t give them to me.”_

The witch made sure of that. She always just knew. 

_“Yeah, yeah of course I’ll…”_

Adora was so _scared_ to leave. Fuck, she was almost crying by the time she got back. Her hands shook the whole time as she wrapped the bandages, hands infuriatingly gentle and eyes so heartbreakingly intense. If she wasn’t in love with her before, the way Adora cradled her hands afterwards would've made her fall. Claws stained with her own blood, and Adora had brought them up to her face, rested her forehead on them. She wanted to cry, Catra knows that. From the water in her voice and the broken hitching in her breathing. 

But even then, Adora had to be strong for everyone. Not even she was the exception to that. No matter how much she wished it so.

_”Catra_ please _, never - never do this again. You can’t - I can’t - I don’t know how to protect you from this.”_

The memory makes her sob, hunched over and claws digging grooves into the floor. She just can’t do it again, she didn’t even make a promise but that pure and utter pain may as well have done. It just hurts. Memories, words, thoughts, questions; there’s _so much_ and she -

Her claws slice through her hair. Enough tension in the still-burnt strands to ease the wanting. She doesn’t stop. Over and over again. This pent up energy is allowed to dispel a little more with every hack. There’s no blood, no pain, no metal torn apart, but there’s a release and a distraction. 

There’s no one hurt by this. Just a weight shed from her head and shoulders. 

It’s not neat, it’s not even, smooth or anything even close. Once the airless fog lifts from her head, she takes off her mask, throws it through the spell walls so she can get at the rest of it. She’s able to feel out the lingering fire damage and watch as it falls to the floor. When she’s done, the hair that gets stuck to her fur itches but she pays it no attention. 

She’s not sure why her last act is to tear off the black sleeve still covering her arm. She does it anyway, slices along the seam and peels it off. She hasn’t seen these scars in a long time, the small scattering of them born from a lifetime as a fighter not so dissimilar to the stars outside her window. It’s balanced again - _she’s_ balanced again. 

Wiping the water from her face, she rises to her feet, it doesn’t remove the dark stain of their tracks in her fur. It doesn’t matter; no one’s here to see. She kicks the fabric and brushes the hair through the walls. Her limbs are shaking once more, it aches when she takes another step, arms protesting as she tugs on the chair, turning it around. 

She sinks back into it, bundling into blankets that have long since lost Adora’s scent, and watches the moons in the sky, revelling silently in the breeze that washes over her fur. She almost shivers from the alien feeling of wind on the back of her neck. But it’s okay. She’ll get used to it. She’ll have to. 

She doesn't hear Shadow Weaver right now. Doesn't hear a young, worried Adora. Not even Glimmer. Just quiet echoing originating from various places around the castle that she can't pinpoint, almost like a lullaby. Not that she's ever heard one before.

It’s sad for her to think that this might be the most carefree she’s ever been. Her mind is blissfully blank of anything as she gazes at the world beyond her prison, blue and purple and white on the horizon. She doesn’t know the world outside anymore, she finds she doesn’t really miss it. For what is there to miss? Adora is here, Scorpia, Entrapta, even Bow now are the only things that might draw her out. 

Past kingdom walls lives Shadow Weaver, whatever decaying remains of the Horde are left, a world she vowed to break. Here she’s safe. Here she can grow without other people cutting her down again. She wonders how it took her this long to realise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch me jump on the Shadow Weaver hates Catra’s animal traits train. 
> 
> Adora POV back next chapter lads.
> 
> (Here's a link to my pre-canon fic because I apply it to all my canon-verse stories and it might provide some context: [Gorgeous](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972609))


	12. Aftermath: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora sees the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I basically re-wrote half of this just as I was about to upload it because I just...didn't like it anymore. So this is coming out later than planned.

  
***Adora***

“Adora?”

She startles when a voice and shower of glitter erupts behind her, effectively snapping her from the silence she was stewing in. 

(Supply routes to Salineas are even more difficult than she first thought, what with it’s only access being by treacherous sea. The Horde’s resources are proving useful but there’s a delay on that as well, since all the insignias need to be removed to avoid hysterical civilians. Needless to say she forgot about that the first time they tried to use them.)

She takes a breath, “Hi Glimmer.”

“Can we talk?” 

Glimmer looks nervous, hands holding each other. There’s no magic spilling from them though - her most obvious sign of severe distress - which is really the only reason she doesn’t panic. 

“Why, uh, I mean sure, what’s wrong?” 

She steps away from the table, encouraging Glimmer closer. She seems grateful of it. 

“Adora I - I talked to Catra.”

_‘Oh.’_

She doesn’t know what she was expecting but it wasn’t _that_. She’s not sure who she’s more worried for, but it’s definitely worry that she’s feeling. Catra is...Catra but Glimmer is...well she’s Glimmer and as much as neither of them will want to know it, they’re pretty similar. She always thought that if they ever met without the promise of a fight it would be like adding tinder to a fire. Or flame to gasoline.

“What happened?”

“She...helped me with something. But I hurt her in the process. She asked me to and I - I don’t know, the things she said kind of...scared me I guess. I just think you should go see her.”

Her inner monologue kind of gets stuck on _‘Okay, okay, okay,’_ for a while. 

Catra _helped_ Glimmer. First thing, one that doesn't make sense. The Catra she knows would rather rip off her own tail than willingly help a Princess. (It doesn’t count with her - she’s not a Princess anymore. Plus, Catra doesn’t know that she’s helping just by being here.) 

But...Catra’s changed, and pretty drastically at that, from the woman she used to know. That much is obvious. She’s even changed from the woman she saw on that throne, and the one she’d seen the day following. 

Isolation must be getting to her. She ought to go see her more. 

Second thing: Glimmer had hurt Catra. Not all that surprising, again tinder and flame, but Catra had _asked her to_. Why would Catra _ask_? For as long as she’s known, Catra’s run from or fought against everything that’s ever tried to hurt her (and there have been a _lot_ of things.) Except...except she’s forgotten something; the thin set of slashes on her arms, hidden under fur. 

It’s been _years_ since she’s thought about that day and the new type of fear it had brought. She’s tried every moment of her life to save the people she loves from...well from everything. But back then it was just Catra. And she hadn’t been prepared, hadn’t known in any capacity how to save her from herself.

_‘That hasn’t changed.’_

It really hasn’t. She thought, hoped, Catra was getting better. Away from the Horde, away from Shadow Weaver. And she is, she has to be. She’s _seen_ the changes, all of them good. 

_‘What would you know about how she’s doing, it’s not like she would tell you. She doesn’t trust you.’_

She needs to move onto the next thing before the possibility that she was wrong breaks her heart. Or sends her spiralling, whichever comes first.

Third, possibly fourth, thing; Glimmer being scared _for_ Catra. Which isn’t nearly as surprising as it was initially, if only due to the memories of the day before the siege on the Fright Zone. The concern and worry for someone she’s meant to hate, the anxious way Glimmer spoke when she told her; it’s the same. 

Maybe Glimmer knows how she feels about Catra. And as much as she doesn’t want people knowing, people worrying about her, it would make sense. Or maybe she’s just a good person who doesn’t want to see other people in pain. Either way it’s eerily similar to that day. It sends that latent panic skyrocketing. 

She swallows around the growing heartbeat in her throat, “How bad was it?”

“She - It was bad Adora. It was _really_ bad. But then she came down I guess, I don’t know, she seemed...bitter? Kind of distant, sad. I’m just worried what she might do I guess. She wasn’t...what I expected.” 

_‘She never is.’_

She wants to ask if she was angry but if Glimmer hadn’t mentioned it then it probably wasn’t there at all. And if Catra’s not angry then...

“If she’s hurting she won’t want anyone around, I’ll - I’ll go talk to her later okay?” She’s not sure who she's trying to reassure at this point. “She always needs space after something like that.” 

There’s not sure how to read the look on Glimmer’s face; something like realistion, something like _‘this has happened before?’_ But she knows Catra won’t want her to say anything else (she’s probably already said too much.) 

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. Thanks for telling me.”

She’s out the room before Glimmer has another chance to respond.

She focuses on breathing - something Perfuma’s been showing her after she stumbled upon her and Scorpia meditating in the gardens - as she walks directly back to her room. She doesn’t even look at the guards, or the other Princesses she passes in the hallways.

She counts in. Hold. She counts out. Hold. 

The door sounds so much louder than usual when it clicks shut. 

The breathing brings her heart rate down and she’s grateful (she’ll have to tell Perfuma later.) She sits on her bed and closes her eyes, tries to focus on counting. _Tries._ The forced blankness in her head keeps getting cut away by the blade of her memories. 

Images of Catra’s scars, fresh and bloody, flash behind her eyes. She hears every time she’s ever asked Catra who hurt her in her head like a siren. Because whenever Catra grew dark, spat _“Who do you think?”_ at her, could’ve been a lie. She’d always thought it had meant Shadow Weaver, hadn’t pushed it further because of it. 

_‘You should’ve known.’_

She sees Catra in that stimulated Fright Zone. Sees her grow from that scared child into a woman shaped by a type of pain Adora’s never known, wounds from time long past fresh in her eyes.

_“You never protected me.”_

It makes her breath shudder in her lungs.

She doesn’t let herself cry. Seems to forget that she even can. Maybe it’s because of the memory of Shadow Weaver;

_“You have to be better than that Adora.”_

She lost track of how many times she’s heard that a long time ago. It’s too deeply ingrained for her to unlearn it now so...she’ll be better. For her friends, and more importantly, right now for Catra. Just an hour and she’ll go. 

She doesn’t know what she’s going to do - what she’s going to be _able_ to do. Catra hasn’t wanted her past the barrier in all the time she’s been here, there’s no reason for that to have changed now. She can’t take her somewhere high up to clear her head, can’t let her win at a training exercise to make her feel better (she only did that a few times though, she was a fool for thinking she could get anything by Shadow Weaver.) 

If Catra _has_ hurt herself then she probably won’t even let her bandage the wounds. Being allowed to do that last time was the only thing that kept her from outright sobbing from fear and failure. She - She doesn’t even know what she’s going to do now. She might very well just...break. 

But there’s a good chance Catra _hasn’t_ done anything. Given what Glimmer said she won’t be _fine_ but she may at least be safe and _whole_. She clings to the flicking newfound hope like a lifeline. 

Catra _might_ be fine, but she will definitely _be here_. She’ll always be able to find her here, she can’t go missing without a word, leaving her to tread the waters of the Horde by herself. 

It might be that fact that keeps her in her room, away from Catra and the series of terrifying unknowns that now surround her. She’s practically paralyzed with it. Alone with her memories and worries, all they seem to do is magnify the more time that passes.

* * *

In actuality she waits till Catra’s due her midday meal before she goes. (She knows the schedule off by heart anyway and figures having an excuse ready might be good.) She spent so long in her room using her own fear to keep her there that it almost makes her hands shake as she carries the tray to Catra’s cell. 

She can’t tell if the guards are surprised to see her or not, what with their helmets. Them being here just makes it worse. She knows she has every right to do this, to check on her...friend when she’s worried (terrified) about her. But she feels judged anyway. She’s biting down on the inside of her cheek when she knocks on the door.

She waits for a minute with no answer before the fear and worry takes a hold strong enough for her to turn the handle. (Still valiantly ignoring the guards on either side of her.) It’s still dark in the room when she enters, lights not having been turned back on. 

“Catra?” 

Gods it feels like the day she found Catra on that - her - throne. She felt this particular kind of fear then too. She’s not ready to unpick that, and she’s not sure she ever will be. 

There’s no answer again. She takes in the state of the room; the hair, fur and black fabric littering the floor. (She’s proud of herself for not dropping the food in her unsteady hands. She’s not proud of the shaky breath that rushes out of her when she doesn’t see blood on the floor.)

Catra’s turned the chair around, she’s not sure what that means. (It means she can’t see her and it has her heart rate pounding in her ears again.)

She’s careful when she comes closer, footsteps loud enough not to startle - the last thing she wants right now is for Catra to panic. She follows the lining of the spell round, leaving the food on the floor after she slides it through. 

Catra’s asleep when she comes to the other side of the barrier, body hidden by the blankets - Adora’s blankets - wrapped around her. Her heart melts a little at the sight, and suddenly it’s not that day in the throne room, it’s the one following. Catra curled up and asleep near her again, only this time there’s actually some semblance of peace on her face. (What of it she can see anyway.)

But the fear hasn’t abated. It flares when Catra screws her eyes against consciousness and she can’t help but wonder what happened to make her sleep that deeply. (She always did bolt awake at any sign of movement.) Adora’s not sure what woke her but it doesn’t really matter. There’s a rustle of fabric before electric eyes appear.

It seems they’re both speechless as Catra studies her (at least she is, Catra never was one for talking right after she woke up.) She thinks there’s confusion but it fizzles away in a few moments, Catra sighing and looking away.

“Catra, please, say something?” 

She doesn’t mean for it to be a broken whisper, but it is.

There’s pause, then only an indication that Catra wants to be smiling - a twitch in her lip she could recognise anywhere. 

“Hey Adora.”

_‘Oh.’_

Her whole chest _aches_ , sharp like she’s been run through. Catra hasn’t said her name since that night with the stars. And her voice is so _soft_ ; none of their past poisoning it. If she really wanted she could pretend Catra’s just jumped down from her bunk, glowing eyes finding hers in the dark. 

Catra looks...she can’t even describe it. It’s not happy, it’s not even resigned like she’s come to expect, it’s...calm, maybe? There’s equal amounts exhaustion and gentleness; openness in those split eyes. Eyes that, for once, don’t feel like they’re ripping her feelings right out of her chest. Rather luring them with quiet, childish whispers.

She comes to the crashing realisation that Catra’s not wearing her mask, she wants to look for it but she _can’t look away_. She never _wants_ to look away from Catra and the markings on her face that look like inkstains, but it’s impossible in this moment. 

Catra unfurls more, blankets falling around her hips, eyes never straying even as hers do; Catra’s sleeve is gone and so is her _hair_. It’s messy and clearly been hacked away at with her claws, the shortest parts of it coming midway down her face. She’s never wondered what Catra might look like with short hair, free of her wild mane, she’s never really wanted to - her hair just as much a part of her as her claws or stripes. But maybe she should’ve because she...words won’t come. She’d describe herself as speechless again if it weren’t for her thoughts also being swallowed by silence. 

She’s beautiful. She’ll never tell her that. 

Catra realises where she’s looking and breaks her stare, eyes down as she runs her hand through the shorn mane. 

“Don’t have to look so surprised y’know.” It gets Adora to close her own mouth at least. “How bad is it?”

“It’s- It’s not bad, I like it.” 

Understatement, but what else is she going to say?

Catra’s ears lower and she looks down like she’s embarrassed. And her brain just shouts _‘cute’_ at her so loudly she doesn’t even bother to wonder why.

“Did I sleep the whole day?”

It takes her a minute to catch up, “No, I brought lunch.”

Catra looks back at her again, doing that thing with her eyes where it feels like she’s picking her apart. She’s always been good at finding an opponent’s weakness and exploiting it. A lot of the time she needed to be, Adora’s just not sure why she’s using it now.

Catra sighs when her gaze lets up and Adora can feel it leave like a hand letting her face drop. It’s mildly disorientating. Catra brings one of her knees up, the other falling to the floor. 

“Sparkles huh?”

Catra really needs to stop doing _things_ right now, she can’t keep up. Sparkles is Glimmer, Catra’s asking about Glimmer because...because she’s wondering why she’s here. Okay that makes sense.

“She was worried about you, and...and so was I.”

There’s a shadow that falls on Catra’s face, a grimace that appears on her lips but she doesn’t say anything else. Adora can see the agitated wave of her tail under the blankets and as the silence stretches, the fear comes back. Slow at first, dripping like a faucet while she just waits; she doesn’t know what else to do. But it builds until there’s a question sitting desperately on her tongue. 

She manages to stutter out, “Do you - Do you need bandages?”

There’s a flicker of something else in Catra’s eyes, “No.”

She looks down at Catra's wrists anyway - bloodless. And yet she’s still not eased. Maybe it’s the guilt doing it. She knows she looks like a mess, knows there’s stands of her ponytail flying around her face. And she figures that’s why Catra softens.

“You don’t have to worry okay? I only did that once.”

The fear - terror - won’t let her believe that. 

“Really?” 

Catra’s leg drops to the ground and she leans forward on her hands, blue-gold eyes capturing hers far too easily. 

“Adora, _I promise_ I didn’t hurt myself okay?”

She sighs, “Okay. Okay, I believe you.” 

Even now they don’t make promises lightly. The worry doesn’t leave, it never really does, but it fades into white noise. She sees that almost smile again. She knows she’s giving a proper one back.

“I know whatever happened was bad but, you’re okay though now right?” 

Just because she needs to know about as much as she needs air.

She can see Catra sigh rather than hear it. “Yeah. I think so. Not great but…”

She looks...fragile, ears still down as she stares at something out the window and resolutely not at her. Whenever she saw this before she’d hug her, or touch her shoulder, or just brush along her hand. They both knew what it really meant; _‘I’m here for you.’_ It was about as much as the Horde allowed, but it was _comfort_ and she can’t even do that anymore. She can’t imagine anything she might say would help; Catra’s always had an issue with words. It was only in the Rebellion, after figuring out the sheer amount of _lies_ she’s heard (and believed) over the course of her short life exactly why Catra’s always felt like that.

But action? That’s something Catra’s always known. What both of them relied on - still rely on. 

It’s a risk but she asks, gesturing at the wall that separates them, “Can I…?” 

One of her ears pricks forward. “Adora, really, I’m okay. You don’t have to do this.”

She’s really not prepared for Catra to be saying her name again because she’s stunned back into silence.

No, she doesn’t _have_ to do this. But she wants to, she wants to be there for her again. Wants to make up for all the times she _wasn’t_. Honestly she just wants to be _close_ to her again. She doesn't feel like she has a right to miss her when she's right here, but she _does_. She misses her with every fibre of her being. Is it really so bad that she just wants Catra to let her in? 

Catra’s looking at the floor again when she exhales, shaking her head slightly before she pushes up. Adora’s transfixed by her, the way she moves, when she comes closer. Close enough that without the rippling texture of the barrier she might be able to count the streaks in her eyes. She flicks between them, trying to do just that and finding herself unable.

And maybe it’s the gentle way Catra’s looking at her, or just how easy it would be, but she mindlessly lifts a hand up to reach through the barrier and touch her. Touch what, she’s not sure. Maybe her hand, maybe her shoulder, maybe even her hair. It doesn’t matter though, because Catra flinches away from it. 

Her hand feels like lead when it drops back to her side.

“Adora,” she’s scared Catra can hear her heartbeat with the proximity, even with the barrier, “Thanks, for checking on me. I know you probably didn’t - you didn’t have to do that.”

She...wasn’t expecting that. It’s probably the reason _‘of course I did’_ or _‘you don’t have to thank me’_ or something even more telling doesn’t come spilling out. Catra won’t want to hear it anyway. 

Gods she wants to touch her so badly; hug her, hold her, breathe her in, feel the heat of her when she’s alive and fighting again. But Catra doesn’t want that, doesn’t want _her_ to want that. Not anymore. But...Catra makes her selfish. And wishes don’t just die.

Knowing she’s not allowed never stopped her before. She has every day of her life to attest to that fact. Maybe she’s addicted to the brand of pain Catra provides. Or maybe she’s just in love. Either way, no matter what she does, she will always have this pulsing undercurrent in her veins whispering for her to press kisses into Catra’s hair, to tell her that she means everything to her, to apologise for everything she’s ever done to hurt her. 

“You can go you know.”

She blinks a couple times, the sharp drag from her own head disorientating. The crash back to reality (one where Catra is scared of her touch) is a painful one. 

“Oh, um, right. Yeah I should…”

She looks towards the door out the corner of her eye. There are things to do (Salineas supply routes won’t just draw themselves) but she...well she doesn’t _want_ to do any of them. She wants to be here. With Catra. And the kind (if a little uncomfortable and tired) way she’s looking at her.

It’s not even so much hesitance, rather than full on procrastinating the inevitable fuelled by selfish desires. She must be pouting or something similar because Catra laughs, a small, barely there thing that has her heart lurching. Catra’s holding her elbows, she looks small, it’s strange even after all this time. (Catra knows how to make herself look big and threatening and it fucking _works_.)

“Go, dummy, I’ll be fine.”

Okay if Catra starts bringing their old nicknames into this she’s really not going to survive. She ought to leave before her heart takes ahold of her limbs and makes her do something she’ll regret. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She doesn’t mean for it to be a question.

“Don’t be late.”

_‘As if I could.’_

It would be a threat if Catra weren’t smiling lightly. She returns it and walks away, ignoring _everything_ telling her to turn back. 

She gets all of six steps before something red distracts her; Catra’s mask on the white Brightmoon floor. She doesn’t know whether or not Catra’s watching as she goes over and picks it up. It feels lighter than she expected as she runs her fingers over its dented surface. Gods there’s so many memories attached to this thing. Catra probably spent just as long wearing it while she was her best friend as she did as her enemy. She remembers the day she got given it (or stole it, she's never really been sure.)

Catra is in fact watching her when she looks up, arms crossed properly as she raises an eyebrow. She’s not angry, the gentle sway of her tail tells her that much, but she is questioning. She forces her hand to still. 

“Hey, do you want this back?”

Catra hesitates then shakes her head, “No.”

She nods, unsure of what else to do. With one last wave she leaves the room entirely, walking past the silent guards, hand holding the mask of the Horde’s second-in-command like it’s precious.

* * *

She leaves it on her dresser for the rest of the day, sighing with a smile when she sees it after she returns to her room that night. 

She leaves her lights on when she gets into the bed - a habit from years of automatic lighting that she’s been unable to successfully break. Catra’s mask looks out of place amongst the pastels, just like she does, just like Adora does. 

(Her wardrobe is still filled only with Horde-styled uniform pieces, the harsh red and dull grey so _different_ to everything else here. But she just can’t let it go. She can’t seem to let a lot of things go. Not for the first time, she thinks of Light Hope and her warnings, still as unsure in her feelings regarding them as she’s always been.)

She likes seeing the mask in her room, makes her feel less...lonely. (It’s stupid and she knows that.)

But that warm feeling fades as always, thoughts of Glimmer and Bow appearing; what they might say, what they might _ask_. She stares at the red until she thinks she might have it’s rusty colour imprinted on her eyelids for the rest of her life. She can only admit how she feels to herself _sometimes_. She can’t admit it to anyone else. She’ll crumble if anyone tries to address it, she’s not sure what’ll be left of her afterwards. 

So she throws off her covers, shivering at the sudden cold on her bare skin (she forgot to close the curtains as well.) The buries the mask under a mountain of practically identical shirts - where Glimmer will never look. Bow might, but if she says no he won't press.

She remembers to turn off her lights now. Closes thick violet fabric afterwards, her curtains and then the fabric of the drapes around her bed, shielding herself from her own worries. It works. Never as well as she wishes, but despite everything, it’s still safer in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glimmer didn’t want Adora having another breakdown if she told her Catra is suicidal again so she kept quiet about it. Which y’know, fair to her because Adora would’ve totally stormed in and Catra needed that time alone to work through shit. 
> 
> In between this and the next chapter Bow gets Catra a mirror so she can fix her hair (and she kinda hates her reflection but it was necessary.)  
> Also I believe that the tent thing around Adora’s bed is there as extra insulation in the winter seeing as they don’t have any glass in their windows??? Or doors???? You’d think they would, especially after Shadow Weaver broke in but...
> 
> Also if any of y’all want chapters from the other ones POV I’d probably be willing to do that, just like let me know specifics :)


	13. Should've Said It Sooner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra's feeling more comfortable in Brightmoon. She never thought comfort could be dangerous. And it isn't - it just means she's able to say things she never would've before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said at the end of the last chapter, Bow got Catra a mirror and some scissors and she cut her hair a bit neater. Not exactly relevant but...
> 
> Y'all motherfuckers ready for some hurt/comfort????  
> (It's come to my attention that I've once again fallen into my long chapter habits but this time it was kind of necessary)

  
***Catra***

“It’s almost flattering, you still being on the other side of this wall.”

“Why?”

The trays they’d been holding in their laps sit barren and away, flung into a corner without a care. She’s not sure why Adora hasn’t left yet, the easy excuse of breakfast long gone. She hates that she’s waiting for it so avidly. Why can’t she just enjoy it while she has it? Lose herself in it like she wants to?

“Means you think I’m a threat.”

She idly drags her claws along the floor. Does she even want Adora to see her as dangerous anymore? It’s not a question she’s considered before now. 

Adora stutters, “That’s not - that’s not why I…”

Catra watches her when they both fall silent, Adora seeming unable to finish what she started. She forces her ears not to go back. It’s fine. It’s Adora. 

“Then why…”

_‘Why aren’t you here with me?’_

Why is she doing this to herself? She doesn’t want Adora with her on this side of the wall - that’s a lie, but one she can believe. She doesn’t think she could bear being close to her again when she can’t touch her. And she _can’t_ touch her. It’d be like a fucking floodgate pried open; she imagines that even the brush of her fingertips against her hand would make her feelings come pouring forth from her lips. It might very well ruin everything. Gods, her whole body aches with how much she misses her sometimes. (Right now just happens to be one of those times.)

But her stupid mouth seems to be running itself anyway. Because she needs _something_. She wants answers for things that’ll only tear her apart, she just doesn’t want lies anymore. It’s almost like she wants to hurt, but it’s not the same as it was a few days ago with Glimmer. This is just her being intoxicated by her own obsession; by Adora. 

“Why do you stay over there then?”

Adora shuffles slightly; she’s nervous, uncomfortable perhaps. She doesn’t want that. 

“Those first few times you - you didn’t want me in there with you so I stopped trying. Do you - do you _want_ me to...?”

She probably should’ve been prepared for Adora to ask her that outright. But she’s not. And all she can do is stare at the floor and hope Adora can figure out how much she pray she _does not know_. And she must, given how Adora for her part only looks slightly disappointed with her lack of an answer. 

It takes a while, most of it spent trying to look anywhere but blonde hair but another question rises from the ashes of remembered fights. 

“Do you...see me as a threat, did you ever?”

Adora is quick to look at her again and it makes her heart pound louder in her chest. (She tells herself it’s the danger the question brings, tiptoeing the line they have yet to fully cross back over; the past.)

“Of course I did. Even before She-Ra you were the only competition I ever really had, I’ve always been amazed by the things you can do, how strong you are when you try.”

She should be happy with that. She should be proud of herself. She's not. Because she doesn't think about them in the Before, she thinks about how they've been _since_ then. She hears her tail lash against the floor where she sits, she thinks her claws might be digging grooves into the floor. 

“What, when I try to kill you?”

“Catra -” 

There’s a small screech when she draws her hands into herself; there’s definitely claw marks in the floor now.

“Adora, please, we - we need to be able to talk about it, okay. I don’t want to but...we should.” 

She can’t believe the words left her mouth, Adora seems to be in the same boat if the way she’s openly staring at her, wide-eyed, is any indication. 

Whatever sad mockery of a smile she’s able to muster gets strapped to her face. “Trying, remember? Part of the deal.”

Adora softens instantly, eyebrows drawn together with a smile. It’s a look she hasn’t seen in years, one she tried to forget she’d ever seen at all. She never let herself look too long back then, her lovesick mind never coming up with a _safe_ reason for why it was there.

_‘Stop looking at me like that.’_

She can’t seem to make herself say it. She never wants Adora to stop looking at her like that; like she cares, like nothing bad ever happened between them, like they’re not irreparable.

She wants to kiss her. It makes her breathless and want to cry the same way it always does.

She tilts her head back, eyes closed as a way of giving herself distance from that damn look. It doesn’t really work, she can still feel the ache that comes with denying in her chest.

“Trying…” she mutters, mostly to herself. She just needs to get _something_ out, she can figure the next step afterwards. 

_‘Come on you’ve had a whole month to try and work this out, are you going to be a fucking coward and run_ now _of all times?’_

No. No, she’s not.

It's probably the situation, the simple fact that here she _can't_ run, that has stopped that instinct in it's tracks. The urge is there. But rarely does she listen anymore. Mostly because she knows the only thing that'll come of it is a premature return to isolation. 

_‘Just look at the ceiling.’_

She does, a sigh escaping with it. 

“I hurt a lot of people. I hurt the whole fucking planet. I hurt myself. I knew the whole time that I was making mistake after mistake and I just...didn’t care. I wanted to win for once, I wanted to prove myself, I wanted to finally feel _safe_ , I wanted…”

_‘I wanted to have never met you.’_

_‘I wanted you to have never left.’_

_‘I wanted you to come back.’_

“...a lot of things.”

“I know -”

Her eyes snap open again. That look Adora was wearing is gone, she hasn’t hardened, she just looks...sad. Guilty.

“- No. You don’t. You never have. And it’s okay Adora, I can’t keep blaming you for not seeing things when I hid them from you.” 

She really should stop blaming Adora, period. But it’s going to take more than a month to do that. Because as much as it’s being chipped away at each day, her bitter resentment still resides in her chest. It’s strange how it can coincide with her own self-loathing.

_‘It’s the world’s fault’_ and _‘It’s my fault’_ live at equal strengths now. More often than not the latter permeates her head. When she’s alone she wonders if this is how Adora’s felt her whole life - she thinks so, but has never brought herself to ask. She can’t even do it now.

“I wish you hadn’t. I wish you’d told me.” Adora almost whispers it, picks at the top of her boot. 

“Yeah well, too late to change that now.” It takes everything she has to keep that bitterness out of it but she does. Somehow. 

Needless to say neither of them are exactly comfortable with this amount of vulnerability, even now. It’s a strange thing to find comfort in, but right now she’ll latch onto anything familiar.

And gods Adora’s trying so hard. Her brow is furrowed as she tries to figure out the next words to say and Catra just...loves her. In whatever twisted version of love she’s able to have. Because if she were able to love properly she wouldn’t have done any of the things she’s done - she wouldn’t be sitting here waiting for Adora to say something. Adora’s giving and giving and giving and she’s barely even meeting her. 

_‘Still taking. Still selfish.’_

She doesn’t know how to stop. 

She doesn’t think Adora realises how she shuffles a little closer, the flyaway hair around her head tiptoeing the wall of the barrier. But Catra notices, because right now she feels trapped in her pull, the slightest change threatening to make the world shake. 

“You could tell me. I would - I’d listen.”

“I know.” 

She doesn’t believe it. Which isn’t exactly fair to her but when has anything between them ever been _fair_? But...that’s not Adora’s fault. She knows that now. The divide they were always fighting to bridge didn’t stem from them, in fact they were together in spite of it. It came from Shadow Weaver, as all bad things seem to. 

_‘Adora let it happen.’_

_‘You let it happen.’_

_‘Adora didn’t know.’_

_‘You did.’_

She’s not sure which one’s louder. 

The inside of her head is insufferable. Gods how can Adora even stand to be around her? She can’t even have one fucking conversation without feeling like she’s drowning. And the worst part? The one thing that would make it better is Adora herself. But she can’t have her, so she settles for the same thing she always does; memories. The feel of her arms around her, her scent, the sound of her muffled laughter under bed covers late at night. It’s drowning in a way she can bear, at least she’s used to this. 

She takes a deep breath. She can do this. She can speak at the very least. Adora deserves that much. 

_‘Stop breaking promises.’_

Adora’s voice when she speaks is both air and water - relief from her head and aggravation for her feelings.

“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t -”

“- I knew how much damage I was doing.”

Whatever else Adora was going to say doesn’t come. Her hands fall to her lap, back perfectly straight; the picture of an attentive soldier.

She doesn’t close her eyes, though she wants to. Tells herself she has to look at her, it’s for her after all, just as much as it is for herself. 

“But since I’ve been here I’ve _accepted_ it. I promised you that I would try and make things better and I will. I’ll never leave this room to keep people safe from me.”

Adoras position melts, “Catra -”

She ignores the bile on her tongue, “- I know how badly I hurt Glimmer, she made no secret of that. I hurt so many people that most of it kind of blurs into one. But you…it’s different I - I didn’t know any of them, not the way I know you.”

_‘I didn’t love them the way I love you.’_

“Made it easier I guess...”

It didn’t. Not the way she says it (the way that Adora will interpret it.) It was easier to hurt Adora because she knew her weaknesses, she knew _how_. But it wasn’t _easier_. With every blade she made herself bleed too. Really that’s the only kind of love she’s ever known. The Horde - Shadow Weaver - made sure of that.

“Probably helped that I hurt you first. And - And I don’t just mean me leaving.”

It makes her feel weak; that Adora knows that she hurt her. That she’s always had that power over her. She can’t stop that feeling, but she can ease it with the knowledge that Adora doesn’t know how _much_ she hurt her, and she probably never will. 

But that’s not an answer she can give, so she thinks. Did Adora leaving allow her to do all those things? Maybe. Revenge always was a good excuse, fuel, reason. Whatever she needed it to be really. But whatever she tapped into to be able to hurt Adora (and the world,) that was there long before she left. She should tell her that, she _deserves_ that. She -

“It wasn’t your fault you know. You blame yourself for everything - and I blamed you too. For so long I couldn’t bear the _thought_ of you. But things - _I’ve_ \- changed. You didn’t _make_ me do anything, you never did. So please Adora just...stop.”

She hates the way Adora curls in on herself. “I can’t do that Catra. You know that.”

She sighs, “Yeah I know.”

She hears Adora swallow in the silence. “You want me to stop blaming myself?” Catra nods. “Then can I ask you something?”

That is a dangerous question. Enough so that her teeth dig into her lip and her ears go back, but she nods again. Too wary of herself to do anything else and too afraid of Adora leaving, of being alone again, right now if she says no.

“Catra, when I left...was there _any_ way I could’ve got you to come with me?”

“With the way things happened? No.”

It might be what Adora needs to hear right now, but it’s also true. She can’t tell her how seriously she considered leaving before she got that Force Captain badge. It’ll just make her guilt that much worse. If she can save her _any_ amount of pain, she feels she has a duty to do so. 

If Adora did find out, she thinks she might forgive her (at least for not telling her). Duty is something she understands better than anything.

“Can I ask _you_ a question?”

Adora hesitates just as she did. Nods just like she did. 

“Were you scared of me?”

Adora’s shocked by the question, that much is obvious. Which is fair, she’s not even sure why she said it. Sure, it sprouted off the question from earlier but...but nothing. Fear is such a big part in both their lives, maybe it’s appropriate. 

Adora thinks for a while. And she lets her, since Adora gave her the same. Might be the only nice thing she’s done for her all day. (Maybe even all week.) 

“I - I was never scared of _you_ Catra. I mean I was but... I was - I don’t know - scared of things about you? Of what you became. Of what you might do. Of the power you had over me.”

Adora stops but she’s not done. And she’s glad; has no idea what to say in response. She doesn’t even know what that means. When has she ever had any power over Adora? Hasn’t it always been the other way round? Her trailing after Adora in her shadow. 

But her own thoughts don’t matter right now - she pushes them aside because Adora’s _shaking_. Her hands holding each other in a white-knuckle grip to try and stop it. But just like earlier; Catra notices. Gods she wants to hold her so bad. Wants to ease that anguish any way she can. But she also wants Adora to explain. She wants everything and nothing and to forget that this is happening and -

“I was _scared_ of failing the Rebellion because…because I still see my best friend when I look at you. Deep down I knew if it was a choice between us winning and letting you live, I wouldn't be able to choose. Because I see someone I care about hurting and I wanted - want - to help you more than anything, even if I know you won’t let me.”

She can see the way Adora goes rigid as she realises how much she’s said. Or maybe even just the _weight_ of what she's said. It doesn’t matter. Her mind grinds to a halt as it processes what it’s heard. It doesn’t start up again. 

It...it doesn’t make sense. Nothing does. She - Adora can’t - why - _how_ could she be telling any sort of truth? After everything? It’s not fucking possible. She has to swallow around the bile that’s managed to coat her throat with it’s bitterness. 

She stands and hisses, “Go tell your lies to someone else.” 

She can’t look at Adora and her stupid, shining, _lying_ face. How _dare_ she? She deserves so many things, but this is not one of them. She’s taken enough lies in her life, enough to fill the seas a hundred times over. And Adora _knows_ that.

“I’m not lying.” It sounds wounded. It doesn’t even register. 

“Yes you are! You don’t have to lie and spare my feelings anymore, we’re not fucking kids. I don’t matter A-” She can’t even say her fucking name it just hurts too much. Fuck, she thought she’d gotten past this. “We both know I don’t matter. I ruin things, it’s all I’m good for.”

Adora gets to her feet as well, distress written into her features. “You matter to me!”

“Stop lying!” She doesn’t mean to scream. 

“I’m not _fucking lying_ Catra!” 

She opens her mouth to retort - to scream - again but her tongue won’t let her. If Adora saying _that_ with that much fury wasn’t enough to stop her thoughts in their tracks, then Adora’s crossing the barrier certainly would. _Adora’s crossing the barrier_. Her heart rate spikes with panic. She fights the urge to hide behind the chair so she won’t have the steel on her, boring into her, full of sadness she doesn’t understand. Can’t let herself even admit that it’s there. 

“Do you really think that little of yourself?”

_‘Why are you asking?’_

She doesn’t think anyone’s even _thought_ to ask her that before. She can’t fucking move, whole body static in her own shock. But shock doesn’t last, it never does. It melts away leaving her heart free to crack under everything she’s feeling. 

"Do you really think that little of _me_?"

It’s Adora’s tear-stained eyes, it’s her closeness, it’s her _caring_ that apparently never died. It should’ve fucking died. Just like her. But they didn’t, they’re still both here. There’s disbelief and there’s heartbreak so deep she can’t breathe. Tears flood her throat, blur her eyes and maybe she’s choking on them. 

She doesn’t know what it is that makes them spill over. It’s probably Adora and the fact she’s so close she can feel the heat coming off her, she can hear her heartbeat and her breath. And she’s drowning again; in her eyes, in her own feelings, in the dread that’s awoken with the very real possibility that Adora might touch her. 

And Adora does try, hands raising like she’s going to hold her. And just like last time she flinches, her own hands gripping at her arms like it’ll protect her from what she’s feeling. It’s fear mostly; of herself, of what Adora might do, that makes more tears come. She can’t fight them anymore. Or maybe she just doesn’t care whether Adora sees them this time. 

Adora draws her hands back like she’s been burnt. Catra wants her so badly it almost makes her sob. She wants to wrap her arms around her and sink into the one place that always felt like home. But she’s a coward when it comes to Adora, she always has been. And she runs. 

Except she _can’t_ , not here. All she can do now is walk a couple steps and slide down the back of the armchair. She can curl as small as she’s able and hide her face in her knees, but that’s all. And it’s not enough.

Adora doesn’t move at first, but Catra can hear the roughness of her breath. Then the slow click of her boots on the floor when she comes beside her. Adora’s probably staring at the door, deciding whether or not to leave her like this. 

“Catra I’m…” 

It falls away. Adora starts forwards - towards the door, away from her - with a shaky sigh. She doesn’t let her. _She can’t let her leave again_. She can see the way Adora’s whole body tenses when she grabs her hand. 

“Adora wait!” 

Adora listens, turns, and there’s so much fear in her eyes. She drops her hand despite the way her whole body lights up, demands she never let her go and stands. It's so unbearably hard to do, but she owes it to her. 

“I’m sorry, for everything.”

She doesn’t blame Adora for the practically awe-struck look on her face. She doesn’t think _‘sorry’_ has ever passed her lips before wherein she actually meant it, it tastes strange on her tongue. Different to the ones forced out of her by shadows. 

There’s more screaming static in her head as Adora comes back to her, she couldn’t move if she tried. She thinks her legs might be shaking. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but the eyes that she can’t see anymore, because Adora’s wrapped her arms around her shoulders, buried her face in her neck. _She can’t breathe._

It takes all of three seconds before she cries, uninhibited and pathetic and weak and messy and it _doesn’t matter_. 

Her claws latch onto the back of her jacket - that same fucking jacket - and she feels the wetness of Adora’s own tears as they begin to lightly soak her fur. There’s not much else in her head but - but nothing actually. It’s entirely blank, thoughts, reactions all stripped away with the overwhelming scent of _‘home’_. 

She starts purring through the water in her throat. Unexpectedly and _loud_. Adora gasps into her neck, a hand gripping at her shoulder. She’s always loved her purrs, Catra’s never asked her why. They never even really spoke about it since it always made her feel weak; exposed. But this? This is okay, if it has Adora’s smiling through her silent tears, then it has to be. It’s her body’s way of begging her to stay even if her tongue can’t do the same. She doesn’t know if Adora remembers what it means, she half-hopes she doesn’t. 

“I should have - should have said it sooner. But I’m saying it now and I’m so fucking sorry Adora.”

She sobs her name, she doesn’t care. Adora just shakes a little, holds her tighter. 

“I’m sorry too. I'm _sorry_ ," she says it like it's a relief, "I hurt you and I swear, I never wanted to do that, I never wanted to leave you.”

At least she’s not the only one whose voice seems to be breaking on every other word. The feeling of Adora’s lips brushing lightly against her skin as she speaks makes her shudder in her arms. 

_‘I love you so much.’_

She turns her head outwards just so she can breathe. Adora stills like she’s thinking of letting her go, so she wraps her arms around her waist, clinging onto her own wrists. Silently saying, _‘Never let me go again,’_ even though she knows Adora won’t realise that. 

Maybe it’s the warmth - strength - with which she holds her. Maybe it’s Adora’s love, even if it is just friendship, that floods through her. So much more than she deserves. But she feels safe enough to say things she’s never let the walls outside of her own head hear. 

“You broke my fucking heart.”

Her next breaths are just hidden cries, muffled in red fabric, drowning out her purrs. She tries not to dig her claws too deep into her own skin when Adora lifts her head. But Adora’s not pulling away, just hooking her chin over her shoulder. 

“You broke mine too.”

And she cries again. Because Adora doesn’t mean it the way she does. But it feels _so good_ to hear her say it anyway. One of Adora’s hands comes to the nape of her neck. And she lets her. For some reason she lets her. 

“Catra?”

“Hmm?”

“We can fix this, right? Us?”

Fuck, she sounds so scared. Scared for what she’s going to say, like she could even manage to say no when they’ve come this far.

“Yeah...I think - I think we can.”

For the first time in years she actually believes that it’s possible. There’s so much more that needs to be said but...but they have time. Maybe they can work on it a little everyday. She knows it’s her fault that they haven’t been doing that the whole time. She’s never really believed in ‘better late than never’ but she probably ought to start.

“I forgive you. Not for everything…”

“Adora, you don’t have to. I know, I know there are things I’ve done that are...unforgivable in the least.”

“I want to though. I want to be able to forgive you for all of it eventually.”

She wants to ask how; how can Adora be so _good_ all the time. Just apologising (and crying and _feeling_ ) is exhausting. Not lying or misleading or hiding is draining in a way she’s never really experienced before.

“You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t even want to.”

“Yeah I know. But it’s you.”

She buries her face back in Adora’s jacket. She understands what she means; can’t decide if she loves it or hates it. It’s not the first time she’s felt like that about something. Honesty right? That’s what she’s doing now. 

“I hated you, I hated you so much because I still cared about you despite everything I did. I missed you every fucking day.”

And maybe ‘cared’ is replacing what she really means, but Adora doesn’t know that. Otherwise she wouldn’t be crushing her into her chest the way she is, breathing shakily against her ear like she is. It might still be misleading - hiding - but it’s not lying. 

“I missed you too, every single day. But I - I never hated you. Don’t even think I tried that hard to. You know, I uh, I used to wonder what the others would say, if they knew. I never told them how much you meant to me. And they never asked.”

She wants to ask, _‘And how much did I mean to you?’_ But she doesn’t. This is already fragile enough as it is. There’s only so much weight one conversation can bear before it breaks. (And there’s really no answer she can see that won’t wound her heart as a consequence.)

She thinks it’s a good thing she’s angry _for_ Adora. She knows she can’t really say anything, but the Princesses are meant to be better than her, they should’ve known Adora was suffering. They should’ve asked if she was alright. (She’s still trying to grasp that Adora was hurting over losing her but she doubts she’s going to absorb that fully any time soon.)

“...It’s probably a good thing though. It was already hard enough fighting you. Don’t think I could’ve handled how they would’ve looked at me if they knew what we had.”

She doesn’t cry again, but she wants to. Gods she’s pathetic. 

_“What we had.”_

Maybe it’s the past tense, and the possibility they might never get it back that’s fucking her up so badly. Her legs are about to start shaking again and she doesn’t really think she can live with herself if she collapses in Adora’s arms right now. So, as much as she really doesn’t want to, she moves. 

(She reasons with herself that they were going to have to break this eventually anyway. It doesn’t help ease the disappointment all that much.)

The joints in her fingers crack as she slides her claws in and loosens her hold. She pushes at Adora’s hips to signal for her to let go (and ignores how reluctant the simple act of pulling away seems.)

Adora’s fingertips graze along the top of her spine when she leaves her arms, and she has to suppress another shudder. (If Adora’s going to be touching her again, and there’s not really any doubt after all of this that she _won’t_ , she’s really going to have to get this under control. And quick.)

At least with the distance she can breathe easier, her thoughts less foggy. And her tongue less loose.

Adora rids her face of the water there before crossing her arms in a move that _she_ usually employs to stop herself from reaching out again. It makes her chest ache seeing Adora wearing it. 

But she’s reminded of her own state, and scrubs at the thin fur on her face like it’ll do anything other than make it stick up. 

“You make me a fucking mess, you know that?”

“You think I’m any better off?”

Adora isn’t really; her eyes are puffy and her hair’s kind of a mess and there’s a water stain on her shoulder. But the evidence sticking to her is much more easily disposed of. 

“Now what?” It’s cute how hesitant Adora is. 

“Sit with me?” Adora lets out a relieved sigh. “What, did you think I was gonna ask you to leave?”

“Kind of.”

“You’re an idiot,” she tells her as she pulls them around. 

The chair is long enough that she can lay on it lengthways with only her feet hanging off, which means Adora could sit next to her without them touching. But she doesn’t want that. She wants Adora here, she wants to feel her again; memorize her scent and the few freckles on her skin she thought she’d forgotten about. 

She sits down first, back against the armrest, and pulls a nervous Adora with her. Catra’s glad she doesn’t have to go through the embarrassing ordeal of tugging her closer, Adora gets as close as she can, within reason. But reason doesn’t matter to her so much right now. She lifts her legs and Adora smiles when she realises (remembers) what it means. She shuffles underneath, brings Catra’s legs down over her tucked up knees as she settles, the same way they would sit with each other when one of them got hurt. 

She’s probably smiling far too softly but she doesn’t care. It takes her all of four seconds for her to decide to doom herself, already trying to figure out a way to curl back into the shape of Adora’s arms, fit her nose into her neck. But Adora’s jacket won’t really let her do that, so it has to go.

“Jacket off dummy.”

“Oh, right.”

Adora drops it on the ground and leaves an arm out for her to tuck under, and it makes her smile; Adora remembered. Remembered how much her scent calmed her, and she not-so-quietly purrs her gratitude into her neck. Adora laughs a little and it’s like the whole fucking room lights up. 

“What? Think I’d forget about that?”

“A little. More like I didn’t think you’d offer... I was gonna do it anyway.”

Adora hums quietly, rests her head on hers. And it’s okay (it’s better than okay.)

Eventually she’s able to ease out from the hold and lean back against the armrest without feeling like the moment’s going to crumble into fantasy. She laughs a little when Adora doesn’t seem to know what to do with her hands. (She ends up with them resting on Catra’s legs, looking guilty when she really shouldn’t.) 

Her continuous purr fades to practically nothing when she asks, “How long can you stay?”

Because apparently she’s back to thinking about when Adora’s going to leave again. 

“Don’t know. Glimmer’s not gonna like it if I stay here that much longer, probably some meeting she’ll want me to go to. Which is dumb because I’m not even technically a Princess anymore, but...”

“But Sparkles already isn’t exactly my biggest fan, and I’m beginning to think I should invest in not pissing off the Queen. I get it. She’s vicious.”

“Can be. Just like someone else I know.”

It’s probably not something anyone who grew up outside of the Horde would preen at, but they did, and she does. 

“Don’t you forget it.”

Adora squeezes her leg and her ears prick forward in surprise. She can see Adora trying to suppress a laugh. 

“Thanks Catra.”

“For what?”

“For...talking, I guess.”

“It was a bit late.” 

It was very, very late. But Adora doesn’t seem to care. In fact she smiles before sighing heavily and lifting Catra’s legs to escape the comfort of the chair. Is she revelling in how clear it is that Adora doesn’t want to go? Yes, entirely, unashamedly yes. A near-silent purr starting up in her chest again. 

“Can it really be late if I never expected it to happen in the first place?” 

Adora’s still smiling, looking over her shoulder as she pulls her jacket back on when she says it. It soothes the desolate nature of the words. 

“Not sure.” She lets it be playful, not only because it’ll mean the smile stays on Adora’s face.

“Try and find me an answer by tomorrow?”

“Okay dork.”

Her eyes follow Adora all the way out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Said it before, I'll say it again. I hate last lines.  
> Another chapter that started off so much shorter and then spiralled because I just do that apparently. Also I wrote a whole one shot based on that hugging position because of this and yes it is another of my one-shots I count as in this universe. (Anyway here: [I've Got You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27104881))
> 
> Pretty much all on the up from here on. And was that...fluff I kind of wrote??? I know, I’m shocked too. Next chapter is kind of a set up/exposition/fluff thing which'll be a nice change of pace. (Also gonna be gay as hell eeeee)
> 
> (Also Viscous by Halestorm is a Catra song. I do in fact make the rules.)


	14. Inbetween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has more world building than I was intending. (Timeline wise, Catra's been in Brightmoon around 40 days by now.)
> 
> I know I know Catradora fluff is next chapter I promise - like lots of unnecessary touching

  
***Catra***

_“Wasn’t expecting you Sparkles.”_

_“Heard you apologised.”_

_“I did. Guessing you want one too? I’ve been practising.”_

_“Kind of already had ours but the actual words would be a nice addition.”_

_“Well then... I’m sorry. You know what for.”_

_“Hm. I guess I’m sorry too... Wow. You just apologised to a Princess.”_

_“You just apologised to the ex-leader of the Horde. It’s weird all round.”_

_“I’ve got duties around the castle. I’ll come see you when I’m done.”_

She’s been thinking about it ever since it happened. She apologised to the leader of the Rebellion. And maybe she bit her tongue hard enough to bleed doing it, but she meant it. And Adora knows, came to see her the day after and she was _proud_ of her. Looked at her with that face that puts moonshine in her eyes and gives her false hopes and childish butterflies. And it felt like everything she's always wanted.

Brightmoon really has gotten to her.

* * *

“Hi Bow.”

“Morning Catra.” 

It’s still strange seeing people aside from Adora wearing a smile when they say her name. And yes, Bow is the only person who does that, but it means a lot. Makes her feel better. Even if there’s no way she’ll ever admit that to anyone. 

Maybe one day he’ll figure it out - know her well enough to spot the signs. There’s advantages and consequences to both options. 

He’s been trying to make more of an effort to come see her since she let Adora know that she doesn’t _mind_ the company (however long ago the conversation was.) This isn’t even his first visit this week. (And maybe it has something to do with what happened between her and Adora a couple of days ago, but if it is, she’s not going to ask.)

“What’s been happening this week?”

“It’s been slow actually, you’re pretty much caught up.”

There’s something there she doesn’t like. But she’s not going to outright accuse him of anything (yet), friendship and all.

“I find that hard to believe.”

Bow makes a half-soured face that gives her all the confirmation she needs. There’s guilt there that she believes to be a result of the act of lying itself, rather than being caught. She’s able to distinguish them now. 

“Okay there’s definitely something.” She’s trying so hard to keep the hard edge out of the words. 

_‘He doesn’t lie to hurt you.’_

_‘Then why is he lying at all?’_

She sighs, mostly at herself, “I get it if you don’t want to tell me. Just don’t lie...please.”

That’s a new word she’s been using. Infrequently, but she can safely say it is in her vocabulary now. And Bow softens because of it. There’s relief in her lungs that she tries her hardest not to feel too uncomfortable with. 

“Right, you’re - you’re right. It’s just...y’know...Horde stuff.”

“Oh.” 

Either he’s been carefully avoiding the subject (Adora too), or the Alliance has been too preoccupied with rebuilding Salineas and neighbouring kingdoms to address the (inevitable) mess that is the Fright Zone. Which is fair, most of the map has suffered at the Horde’s hands - her hands - at least somewhat during the war after all. Why wouldn't they try and fix their own homes first?

She chokes back whatever feeling is in her throat, “What’s happening over there?”

It’s not quite homesickness (not that she’s ever experienced it before), but maybe it’s some brand of missing. Maybe it’s just general uneasiness - which she thinks is understandable. 

“Over there? Not much, no one’s living there - that we know of. We, um, we’re bringing the rest of the bots here so Entrapta can dismantle them. Or experiment on them - we’re not really sure.”

“You trust her not to blow up the castle?” 

He gives her a look. It’s one she’s unsure whether or not he’s made for her. It reads like a reprimand; a _‘think about what you just said.’_ And more often than not she listens, goes back over what she’s done and picks through it to find what he might see fault in. Sometimes it takes a while and he’ll just tell her, but this one’s pretty easy. 

“Right, trusting people is a good thing. Forgot.”

There was only one time where he got mad at her for it (and even then it was more like aggressive disappointment she really hadn’t known how to handle), and it was because she didn’t correct herself. Remained stubborn and bitter. Adora had later come to the conclusion that it was because it reminded him of Glimmer. She’d been reluctant to share that insight but Catra was surprisingly okay with it. (Yes, she had come to the same conclusion herself but having Adora say it made it feel different.)

But now is not then and Bow’s just smiling a little. “We’re keeping an eye on her. Bomb detection is our first priority.”

That’s good. There are _definitely_ some bombs hidden in the cores.

“Looks like you’re learning Arrow… If there are bombs, they’ll be fused to the metal framework around the core. Which Entrapta will know about but just, full warning.”

He leans back on his hands, legs crossed; a position she would describe as easily vulnerable. “Any tips on dismantling them?”

“You’re working with Entrapta so have a will ready, but other than that just don’t cut the green wire.”

She’s glad he seems to recognise the distinct lack of maliciousness in the words.

“Good to know.”

“Anything else happening?”

“Well, people have stopped panicking when we send the refurbished Horde-tech to help with reconstruction. Soldiers are finding homes finally. It’s been, uh, difficult.”

“The Horde never really taught us to adapt. Well, adapt beyond a battle setting. Resilience got you extra points.”

 _‘Unless you’re me.’_ She doesn’t say it aloud. 

“Figured. Which, uh, reminds me I had...I had a question for you. I guess I could ask Adora, but missions and meetings mean we keep missing each other.”

_‘Yeah, I know a thing or two about missing her.’_

_‘Wow, dramatic much?’_

She blames the shift in their relationship; closer to how it was before, that’s making her think like this. 

It’s been five days and they’ve had three mornings. That’s it. The past two of which she hasn’t even seen Adora, or heard from her at all. Diplomatic trip to flower girl’s kingdom. (She figures she should probably learn her name, given all the not-so-subtle hints Bow gives regarding her relationship with Scorpia.) 

But those three mornings they did have? Interesting to say the least. At first Adora had been so adorably skittish about everything - she actually needed her to hold out a hand before she even crossed. 

_“You sure it’s okay?”_

_“Adora, I wouldn’t be offering if it wasn’t.”_

In some ways she’s glad Adora didn’t let anything beyond the momentary hand-holding happen the first day. Just that alone made her heart leap into her throat, the pulse strong enough she was worried Adora would feel it in their palms. But it was okay; Adora let go quick enough. And yet the rush of blood in her body didn’t leave, prolonged and fed by Adora's closeness. Adora never dared to touch her, but it wasn't even needed. (She doesn’t know what reason Adora decided upon for why she kept staring at her, but Catra getting caught up in the vision of her, unruptured by blue magic is probably not it.)

And she was content with it, could swear she was glowing just from having the _option_ of feeling her again. But she’s greedy and lovesick. And the next day had her sitting right next to her, the two of them looking out the ever-open window. Not that Adora seemed in any way unhappy about that, in fact she was grinning the whole time. Gods she had felt like a kid again. It was...surprisingly easy. 

So she took a risk; highly calculated and incredibly foolish. When Adora set the few remains of her food aside the next day, she’d lain on the floor, feet in Adora’s lap. Adora was (rightly) surprised by the sudden action but was laughing quietly soon after, easing Catra’s worries away. 

As with a lot of things now, it seems she has to make the first move, and Adora will follow suit. It’s a strange reversal to what she’s used to - Adora always one to keep pushing. Either Adora’s finally grown wary of how often pushing her will end with claws, or she’s just unsure how to navigate whatever they have now. (It’s definitely the latter.)

But all that means is that as soon as a barrier is broken Adora is adamant to keep it that way. Hands on her shoulders, forearms, shoving at her, even kicking her lightly once. And fuck has she missed it. 

_Misses_ it. Because Adora’s not here right now, but she’ll be back soon, said as much from the hug she gave her before she left. (Which she was wholly unprepared for. She blames the resulting purr she couldn't quash down fast enough on that factor alone.) She’ll just have to hope neither of them backslide into the awkward space they had before when she returns. 

Dammit she got caught up in her own head again. Right. Bow had a question.

“What is it?”

The amusement he was holding fades a little, “The soldiers I was helping, they - well they didn’t really seem to know each other? Most of the soldiers didn’t know anyone aside from the people in their squadrons and their Force Captains. Is that normal?”

“Yeah.” 

If he’s asked her that about three weeks ago she’d have asked if that _wasn’t_ normal. She’s now spent enough time with him and Adora to know that it is, in fact, not. Even Glimmer made that clear enough during her visit. (She had indeed kept her word, returning much later in the day.) Queen of thousands of subjects and she knows pretty much all her guards by name. 

She hadn’t even bothered to look at Hordak’s guard when he had them. It’d left her rolling in a new kind of guilt for a few hours afterwards.

If anything, Bow deflates more with the confirmation. “Oh. I thought - I don’t know what I thought. No one’s exactly big on opening up about what it was like there. Scorpia is of course but she seemed kind of...outcast from the rest of the Horde. Until she met you and Entrapta. But you and Adora…”

She ignores the lilt in his voice that makes it sound like a question fights down the undeserved panic. 

It comes out a little shaky and prays he doesn’t notice. “Me and Adora aren’t exactly a typical example of relations within the Horde, okay? We were told off enough for...well for everything. But Shadow Weaver she - she didn’t even want Adora near me most of the time. Bad influence on her prodigy or whatever.” 

It’s painfully bitter even in her own ears. Shadow Weaver has that affect.

He looks stricken, but curious, “You were punished for being friends?”

Maybe she’s feeling petty, but, “I was punished for everything. But yeah, amongst other things. It wasn’t meant to be anything more than allyship. Not that people really listened to that. They just learned to hide it and I - I guess I didn’t... Shadow Weaver always knew." 

She blames what she is for that - body giving so much away. Too much most of the time. She could be read so she had to learn to close the book. Not that she ever truly succeeded at that, and not that Adora ever wanted her to. But she tampered it down enough to get by. And it was one of the few things that became easier with Adora's abrupt absence, a river cut off from it's source. 

"But yeah, people had friends, just not many and hardly ever outside their own barracks.”

Bow looks about as desolate as she’s ever seen him. “That sounds...lonely. And awful. But you had Adora, and Scorpia, and Entrapta.”

She scoffs, “Yeah and look how well I did with them.”

He hums thinking for a minute. “Scorpia misses you. She smiles when I tell her about you, asks me how you’re doing.”

It doesn’t matter how curious she is to know what he’s said, it doesn’t change her mild shock. And the subsequent wave of regret. 

“She shouldn’t.”

Bow seems to ignore her, a new move for him that almost has her impressed. “Think if you asked her to come see you, she would.”

“I’ll think about it.” She sighs, eyes turning to the ceiling as they always do. “I do- I do want to apologise to her, okay.”

He’s still smiling when she looks back down. “Okay, I have another question, but you really don’t have to answer it, you didn’t exactly respond _well_ the last time.” 

She resolves to keep the growl in her chest down to simply gritting her teeth. But she does let her tail lash behind her, a warning but not an outright threat. Because for all the trouble her own fucking body has gotten her into, it's easier to be read than it is to say something out loud. Sure, she hates it after so long of trying to get it under control, of never letting anyone but Adora see. But Adora suggested it would help and she really can't be turning away anything that might help at this point. 

“Ask me anyway.”

“This isn’t it, but do you know that you do...things?”

Oh so he’s noticed then. She’s kind of surprised he’s calling her out on it. “Of course I do, I’m doing it for your benefit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Been told I’m easier to read when I don’t try and hide absolutely everything. _Don’t_ make a big deal out of it.”

He’s going to make _such_ a big deal out of it, he’s got his ‘big eyes’ on. She doesn’t like them. He knows that. Doesn’t stop him. He’s even had the audacity to call her cute. (Which he probably only did because she can’t tackle him through the barrier.) Which made her fur puff up, which made him reiterate his claim. It was a vicious cycle.

“You had a question,” she says, still glaring. 

“Right, uh, what was Adora like as a kid?”

He was right to be nervous.

There’s a possessiveness in her chest she’d thought she’d outgrown. That growl she’s been pushing down comes out and she has to force her claws in lest they carve the floor. Those memories are _hers_. He doesn’t deserve them. He wasn’t there. She was. She held her through the bad times, stole food for them, lied for her, cleaned her wounds, soothed her nightmares. 

It’s unfair of her to think like this. She knows that. Her memories aren’t the only things she has left of Adora anymore. It should be a comfort. Should ease the fear of losing something - because she’s not _losing_ anything. If anything she’s giving. 

_‘He just wants to know what his friend was like when she was younger.’_

_‘Selfish. Selfish. Selfish’_

“You don’t have to answer, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed.”

She doesn’t know when she closed her eyes but she must’ve given all she sees is black. 

“No it’s -” Deep breath. “It’s okay. She’s your friend too, just...give me a minute.”

He doesn’t need to know specifics. Things like Adora chasing after her through endless hallways, shrieking and hiding in boxes full of weapon parts whenever they heard footsteps; that can still be hers. Their records, their jokes, their hiding spots, their bed. No one can take those from her. 

She waits until her fur stops bristling. 

“She - She was funny I guess, the only person who could make me laugh.”

There. That’s safe enough. He doesn’t need to know that she used to laugh whenever someone failed a training exercise. Or fell over. But properly laugh, not at the expense of anyone else? That was just Adora. It’s enough to have her smiling, at least a little.

“And so bloody determined, if she didn’t get something she _would not_ give up until she got it.”

_‘Even if she got hurt in the process.’_

And she usually did. And she’d heal, faster than anyone else. Maybe that was She-Ra. She doesn’t know how she feels about that. But there were other wounds left; ones Adora didn't let her see, ones she's getting to know only now, the ones Shadow Weaver carved into her head and heart. She's learning them slowly, so painfully slowly. Only seeing the first of them when she had Adora sobbing on her knees before a throne.

“So not much has changed then?”

She’s seen the black under Adora’s eyes and the sag in her shoulders. Things one might expect to be gone with a war over. But then again she knows she’s far from free of the ghosts so who is she to say anything. 

“Guess not.”

* * *

Bow turns back to her on his way out. “Hey, I should’ve asked you sooner, but do you want some new clothes?”

She looks down. There’s still a hole in the side from Hordak’s blaster, even though her fur’s been rejuvenated. There’s also somehow still ash in the fabric and even a little blood. She can’t even remember whose it is. Fuck she’s even still got the Horde insignia on her back.

“...Sure. But no fucking dresses. And no pink.”

He rolls his eyes - he’s never done that before. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

He says it like he knows what she likes. Maybe she can get used to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I will take any chance for me to enforce my headcanon that She-Ra's healing was active when they were kids and therefore Catra has fewer scars and Adora doesn't really have any.
> 
> Again, fluff next chapter I promise.


	15. Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora comes back from Plumeria.  
> Someone else gets through the barrier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The internet was scaring me this week therefore...this is late.
> 
> For my own sake, Catra’s new outfit is just what she wears in season 5. (But her hair is a little longer.)
> 
> Also reminder that Adora figured out her feelings somewhere between seasons 1 and 2 after seeing relationships and just kinda going: OH _that's_ what I want. (This applies to all my canon-verse stories unless I say otherwise.)

***Adora***

The image of Brightmoon; it’s bridge and towering jewel melt into her vision once the glitter fades. Neither her nor Glimmer waste any time in homecoming, striding quickly into the castle, both desperately wanting their own beds. 

They walk in comfortable silence, encountering only a few guards on the way to their bedrooms. Once they’re ascending the stairs, however, she remembers there’s more than just an empty room for her to return to. (Not that she’s _not_ been thinking about Catra for the past few days; always residing on the back burner of her thoughts.)

She’s already turning on the stairs, not even wanting to drop her rucksack off; Catra’s more important anyway. She’s missed her. More than she really ought to for how long it’s been. Now she’s aware of it, that want to see her is demanding, howling in her chest and head, despite the fact she’s practically dead on her feet. 

Glimmer grabs her though, “And where do you think you’re going?”

Sometimes she sounds so much like Angella it’s scary. 

“Uh…” It’s not like she won’t be able to figure it out. (She has happened to worriedly ask Glimmer how she thinks Catra’s doing once or twice, purposely keeping her questions to the times when she’d normally be going to see her.) 

Glimmer sighs, somehow managing to sound suspicious, “She’ll be there in the morning.”

 _‘But I want to see her now.’_ Her thoughts sound like a petulant child. She’s glad she’s not too tired that she can’t help but voice them. 

She should expect the sudden shift in her stomach when Glimmer teleports her to her room, but she doesn’t. It has her dizzy and stumbling back onto her bed, exhaustion preventing her from easily righting herself.

“Adora, you need to get some fucking sleep.”

She listens, but only because she can’t find it in herself to move right now, sinking far too fast into the blankets.

She fully intends to sneak away in the night to go see Catra, she really does. But she gets dragged under a wave of deep sleep within seconds, rendering her plans and intentions useless.

* * *

She sleeps well, leaving her head free for clarity when she wakes. There’s guilt at first for succumbing to sleep, but she’s able to push it away quick enough - Catra wasn’t expecting her to go see her as soon as she got back anyway. It allows for the pure, childish excitement to worm its way into her head. It means she’s grinning while she’s rushing to dress, walking swiftly to the kitchens, practically bouncing on her toes by the time she reaches Catra’s door. 

She’s glad she doesn’t hesitate at her door anymore (even if the fluttery crawling in her stomach has remained a persistent constant), propping the stacked trays and their unstable cargo between her hip and arm as she opens and closes the door. 

She rambles, “I’m back, sorry I didn’t come see you last night, I wanted to but Glimmer forced me to ‘get some fucking sleep’ or whatever -”

Catra doesn’t wait for her to turn around before; “Hey Adora.”

She spins to look at her, whole body wanting to melt into the floor at the smile she sees. It’s relief; more powerful than coming home, that’s making her own smile grow. Catra’s waiting for her as close to the barrier as she can get, but Adora only gets a few steps before her brain catches up with what her eyes are seeing. Her whole body jerks to a halt. 

“You, uh, got new clothes.”

She did. And she looks great. Catra always looks great. She wonders whether Catra knows how good she looks. She figures she must. Wasn’t that a major part of her plan at Princess Prom? Or maybe that was just an added disadvantage on Adora’s part. It’s not as if her clothes are so different, almost identical to her old outfit. But all that means is that she’s still got her thigh-highs (the slither of skin they show) and chest window, both of which make her lose her mind and have her itching to touch. Which she definitely _cannot do._

“Courtesy of Bow.”

She recovers quicker than she did her hair (since it’s less shock and more just admiration.)

_‘Dammit I should’ve thought of that.’_

Catra rolls her eyes and props her hip to the side. “Don’t feel guilty you didn’t think of it, I didn’t either.”

She breathes a small disbelieving laugh, starting to walk again. “How did you…?”

“Oh please,” Catra hooks an arm around her shoulders once she’s close enough, and it takes most of Adora’s effort not to startle at it. 

She’s not expecting this amount of contact (or Catra’s face so close to hers.) She takes a second to re-adjust the tray on her hip and, after a few moments, slings a responding arm around Catra’s waist. It’s odd; they’ve done this so many times before. But it didn’t feel like this when they were kids (or even teenagers.) She didn’t feel this awe at being allowed to do it, she didn’t marvel at the way Catra fits into her hand back then. But in fairness she didn’t understand what she was feeling back then either. 

Catra grins down at the way her fingers are flexing on her side and it has her holding her breath. But the arm around her drags her forward, Catra saying, “It’s fine, okay?”

At least she can breathe again. 

Catra sets her free as they settle against the chair - on the floor but leaning back on it. She’s not sure why they do this - the chair is big enough for the both of them - but the view of the sky out the window isn’t something she’d ever complain about. It’s almost nice not being able to see the woods from here; makes her feel isolated from Etheria and all she has to do out there. (Without She-Ra.)

She unstacks the trays, handing food over. “Well you look good.”

She’s expecting an awkward thanks or even an ‘I know’, not, “You really think so?”

She blames that for the, “Uh, yeah,” she so eloquently responds with. 

She thinks Catra’s biting at the inside of her cheek to stop herself smiling when she hums and looks down at the food now in her lap.

They don’t talk all too much while they eat. Because while the Horde hadn’t banned talking during meal times, it wasn’t like there was all that much time for it. Twenty to thirty minutes maximum depending on how quickly you showered after training. Adora realises they keep seeming to fall into old habits. (In more ways than one.) And despite Catra’s prison, she thinks they’ve never been more free; finally free to be them at least.

She just doesn’t know exactly what that means anymore.

“You done?”

She nods and Catra takes the tray onto hers, dropping it on the floor before literally kicking them away.

She snorts quietly at her antics, “Any reason?”

Catra shrugs, “Nope.”

She’s smiling, eyes closed, as her back slides further down the chair, deeper into the cushion she’s sitting on. She turns her head to speak, getting distracted by Catra looking better than she has in a long time only momentarily. 

“You know it’s kind of funny…”

“What?”

“It’s easier to be around you than Bow or Glimmer right now, even with all our shit.” 

Maybe she uses the swear because of how Catra always used to smile whenever she just _happened_ to say one. And while the smile isn’t as wide as it once was, it’s still there. It’s more than enough for her right now. 

Catra bites at her lip, tail curling on the ground before, “Care to tell me why?”

From the way Catra flusters and looks away, Adora knows her joy is plastered obvious as anything on her face. She can’t bring herself to care. Catra’s asking about her friends - that is pure progress. She’s allowed to be happy about it.

“Stop smiling like that, you look like an idiot.”

She doesn’t even bother attempting to school her features into a less embarrassing expression. 

“Bow and Glimmer - well all of us actually - had a falling out a while back. I don’t know what they told you but the, um, the Heart and everything - we told her it would...y’know...blow up the planet. She wanted the power I guess, thought we were betraying her by not backing her up, and did it anyway. She’s apologised and I’ve forgiven her, we’re all talking again and everything’s pretty much normal but…”

She trails off - despite Catra asking, she thinks she won’t want to hear about it. But Catra just looks at her, ears attentive. She even turns her body in slightly, tail draping over her legs, and nudges Adora’s shoulder. That bright glowy feeling is back in her chest and all she wants to do is wrap Catra up in her arms. But there’s not even a way to touch her right now that she can justify. 

She turns her body in too, tucks her knees and rests an arm on the chair. “They’re just exhausting right now - you’re not allowed to tell them I said that -”

“- I won’t don’t worry.” Catra’s starting to smile - she did always like things just to be between the two of them. 

“They just won’t shut up about each other, always asking me if the other one’s said anything. And the worst part is that they always _have_ , but they told me not to tell the other so I can’t say anything. And you know I’m a bad liar.”

Catra kicks her leg lightly and it’s stupid that it makes her smile. “You’re not so bad. Lied for me enough times to know that.”

She tilts her head, thinking, “Guess I did, I didn’t have to think about that though, I just did it.”

Catra hums. She wishes she could see her thoughts, or have them written down on paper for her to read over and over. She’s gotten into reading more since she’s been in Brightmoon - the castle actually having books other than instruction manuals - but she imagines none of them could grab her attention quite like Catra can.

“Think of it this way; you’re protecting the other one by keeping quiet.”

It shocks her for a moment, leaves her wondering simply _how_ Catra can just pick her apart like that and _then_ word it in a way that’ll make sense for her. No one else would do that. No one else would _know_ to do that. (Figures Catra is telling her how to _lie_ better of all things.)

“Guess I am…”

Catra hits her lightly on the shoulder. “There you go then.” 

The following silence would be uncomfortable if it weren’t them. Maybe she’s just caught up in Catra; the way she looks, the way she _acts_ nowadays, finally starting to relax around her again. Normally she’d feel guilty (or confused) about doing it, but it’s not like her blatant gazing is going unnoticed. Actually, Catra’s doing the exact same thing, so she can’t see any reason why she _shouldn’t_ be looking at her. Catra and her really-pretty-short hair. 

She doesn’t know who cleaned it up, but she hopes it’s Catra herself. She’s unsure as to why. At first she thinks it’s because that means Catra got to control what she did with it. Which is clearly a good thing; it’s not like she’s got much control over anything else here. Not what she wears, not what she eats, not who she sees. Catra’s always wanted more control than she’s had, and really Adora’s willing to give her everything she can. It’s the least she can do for her now. (Since she finally understands that Catra _has_ always felt like that.)

But it’s not _just_ that. It’s also something she doesn’t really recognise. Like she doesn’t want anyone else to have touched her. Which is stupid because that’s not her fucking choice to make. If Catra’s comfortable enough to have other people touching her that’s a _good_ thing. That's _progress_.

Whatever it is she’s feeling, she just has to get a grip on it and lock it away with everything else she doesn’t understand or want to think about. It’s enough to get her to break her gaze at least, moving her focus to the chair’s fabric fibers. But that harsh stare only lasts until she feels the wary brush of Catra's tail against her leg, her eyes locking onto that instead.

She probably ought not to gasp at such a small thing but...it’s Catra. And things like the instinctive actions of her tail and her ears aren’t something she’s ever taken lightly. (Even if Catra’s insisted over and over again that she really shouldn’t; that they’re meaningless.) But she forces her eyes back to Catra’s face rather than the pinprick point of contact that’s making her head fuzzy. (It’s not like Catra’s ever responded _well_ to her pointing out the little things she does, always making her feel too exposed or inhuman.) 

Catra’s watching her intently still. Looking something like nervous from the alertness present in her ears, and something like amused from the curve of her lip. And she really should not be looking _there_ of all places because all it’s going to do is make her want things she shouldn't even want in the first place. She needs Catra to do something other than whatever it is she’s doing with her tail (which she resolutely will not look at again.) 

There is a _reason_ why she is letting Catra set the boundaries, but it is so much more difficult than she thought to not push them. That’s all she’s ever known how to do with Catra; to push and pull, always riding the blurry, uncertain line of what she can and can’t do. It’s just that in the Before she wasn’t so scared of losing her.

Maybe Catra just doesn’t know what to say either. Or maybe Adora’s just overthinking this… She’s definitely overthinking whatever _this_ is because Catra just turns her eyes down, sighing quietly. 

“Well I guess I hope Arrow and Sparkles get back together.”

Despite the names (still with the names) she can tell Catra’s not joking. And she may be wrong but it’s almost reassuring that Catra’s come to that conclusion. Gives her some confidence in herself at least. 

She debates for a moment what she’s going to tell her - is it breaking her friend's trust if they didn’t actually _tell_ her anything? But it is just for a moment before she’s armed with the justification that they are Catra’s friends too now (even if neither she nor Glimmer will admit it, they are.)

“Actually I think that’s part of the problem; they’re not together like that. They both want to be but they’re too scared to admit it. Or talk about it. Or even tell me.”

She’s half torn between loving and hating Catra’s slow smile and the quirk in her brow. “Wow. You figure that out all on your own?”

“I did, actually, so shut up.”

Catra fake gasps. “I’m so proud of you.”

She can’t help preening (inwardly) at the words. They might be laced with mirthful mocking, but they mean everything coming from Catra of all people.

“Bow’s dads came to visit last week.”

Catra picks at her claws. “Yeah he said. You like them?”

Other people might read it as disinterest. She knows her better than that. 

“Yeah they’re great. Without the war they finally feel safe enough to leave the library. I gave them the location of a First Ones ruin, so they’ve gone to do field work there.”

“Thought they were librarians? Far as I know they don’t exactly enjoy the outdoors.”

“They’re _historians_. Big difference,” she says with faked seriousness. 

Catra snickers at her, “If you say so.”

“I do.” She shoves at Catra’s shoulder, loving that Catra goes along with it. (She may be stronger, but if Catra really didn’t want to move she wouldn’t.) “You know, I think they’d like you.”

Catra rolls her eyes and scoffs, “You’re biased.”

She definitely is. “Maybe. But you’re clever, you’d pick up the things they talk about a lot quicker than I do.” She’s also right. 

“You’re smart too, dummy.” She gives Catra an incredulous look; ‘smart’ and ‘dummy’ don’t exactly go hand in hand. “Yeah I know. I stand by it. You may be an idiot Adora, but you’re not stupid.” Catra half mumbles it, but the meaning isn’t lost.

She chews at the inside of her cheek before saying, “Wow. Can’t believe you like me.”

Catra glares, ears down, but fighting a smile. “Shut up. I don’t like you.”

It’s so easy. “Uh huh. I’m just the only one allowed in here because...what, you can’t stand me?”

Catra’s ears flick back to their normal position and her eyebrow quirks up. “Exactly.”

She hums, nodding, before tackling Catra to the ground. Why? She’s not sure. Maybe because it feels strangely safe to do, an easy way to be close to her without the danger of intimacy. Catra yelps before dissolving into laughter. Adora has to reign in the smile she knows wants to appear on her face - she needs to pretend that sound isn’t the best thing she’s ever heard. 

She ends up with her hands pinning Catra’s shoulders to the cushions under her. But she didn’t capture her wrists so she gets a shove in the face in return. She’s laughing behind the hand pressed over her mouth. She doesn’t mean to bite down, but her back hits stone when Catra throws her balance off and it happens. 

Catra takes her hand away, face all scrunched up. “Ew, gross.”

She shoves at Catra’s chest, grinning. “Says you.” 

Catra licks at her own fangs subconsciously, “Guess we’re lucky I’m not in your position then.”

Adora’s suddenly very aware of what her position actually is. There’s a knee holding down one of her thighs that takes her attention first (any increase in pressure might actually land her with a bruise.) It’s not the only thing making her heart pound. It’s also the wrists Catra quickly has pinned to the floor at her sides and the particular rush that comes from a fight, one she relies on more than she cares to admit. And though this version isn’t life-threatening, not bringing forward her single-minded focus she’s gotten used to (wherein She-Ra would start to crackle to the surface), it brings almost the same effect. 

There’s something almost like She-Ra bubbling in her veins, something brighter than herself. But it isn’t her. It can’t be. It still feels different. It must just be Catra and the way she makes her feel - it makes sense, she’s gone so unbearably long without the easy joy that she gets from their playful struggles. The distorted version of the feeling she’d received in the portal world not doing the thrill justice, because in that reality she’d never grown to miss it in the first place. 

Since she can’t gesture with her hands, she knocks her head forward, “Are you trying to give me a bruise?”

Catra actually winces at that, _before_ she looks down, _before_ she’s seen whether or not there’s any damage, which she finds strange. “Sorry.”

Catra never used to apologise before, no matter how bad the damage was. It sets her on edge a little (which is ridiculous because Catra apologising is a _good_ thing.) “It’s okay, just let up a little.”

Catra does, removing that pin entirely. It’s an opening she takes, if only because she doesn’t like the shadow that’s come down on Catra’s face, using her now-free legs to lightly kick her over. She follows, remembering to grab Catra’s wrists this time, holding them next to her head. 

“Sneaky.” Catra’s _almost_ impressed.

_'Good enough.'_

“Learned from the best.”

The shadow disappears entirely, replaced with satisfaction. There’s even the whisper of a purr in the air and fuck, if she’d known complimenting Catra like that would get _this_ reaction… Needless to say she’s got to do this more. She feels drunk.

But she should’ve known better than to think for even a second that Catra would just lay there and purr for her (not _for_ her but…) The ghostly rumble all but dies as a tooth-filled grin takes over Catra’s mouth. (Which apparently Adora has been looking at...again.) 

“Didn’t learn enough evidently.”

She doesn’t have time to respond before she gets a knee in the stomach and the instinctual way her body curls in allows for Catra to tackle her to the floor again. Except this time when Catra captures her wrists in her claws, she holds them above her head, and immobilizes her legs with her thighs. 

She’s surrounded by the heat given off by Catra’s body and she can’t breathe, can’t think through the warmth and the closeness. She can’t even stop the way she relaxes into the feeling - the exact opposite of what she should be doing. And what’s worse? She doesn’t even _think_ of putting up a fight. She can’t blame the way her head tilts back, baring her throat slightly, on anything subconscious. That’s all her; a signal she knows Catra won’t misread or ignore. And she doesn’t, her claws slide in at Adora’s obvious surrender. She doesn’t let go through, or even move at all. It takes Adora a moment to figure out why; feigning surrender to gain the upper hand is a Catra signature move, of course she would think that’s what she’s doing. 

But she’s not, she really is just that weak for Catra’s touch, finally soft after more than two years of it being a weapon. Catra’s eyes bore into her, trying to figure out the game where there is none. Both of them are breathing raggedly, more than they should, but given the month off from fighting (and Catra’s whole recovery) it’s understandable. It’s also the fact that Catra is _pinning her to the floor_ , but Catra doesn’t have to know that.

She swallows and it might as well be a mistake given the way Catra’s eyes track her throat like the predator she is. (A fact she really ought to remember more.) Catra’s tail lashes behind her and she finally releases her wrists, hands landing either side of Adora’s face. But she doesn’t move, still stunned from heat and touch and _Catra_ in her senses.

She (once again) comes to the shattering realisation that the last time they ever did anything even close to this, without adrenaline and _‘danger’_ blinding her thoughts, they were on the same side. Which means that she wasn’t aware of her own feelings… Which really explains why this is affecting her so differently. (Beyond the _‘it’s been so long’_.) 

She didn’t want to run her fingers along the curve of Catra’s hip back then. Well she did, but she didn’t _know_ that. And if she did, she didn't know _why_. She has got to get ahold of this _soon_ , if not _now_. If Catra’s going to get as close as this on anything even close to a regular basis she _has_ to. Because right now she feels like someone’s pushed her head first into boiling water. 

Then Catra leaves, hands lifting off the floor as she sits back on Adora’s thighs. It feels like someone’s pulled a blanket off her body first thing in the morning. But there’s also relief; this is a feeling she was at least once used to. Air comes easier when Catra’s face isn’t inches from her own. 

Catra’s got her arms crossed over her chest and she’s wearing the biggest grin when she says, “Wow. You’re out of practice aren’t you?”

Dealing with Catra’s touch? Yes, she is _very_ out of practice. Wrestling? Also a little out of practice. Not like there’s much use for it anymore. She shifts up onto her elbows, ignoring how the stone gnaws at the muscle. 

“No one else here will train with me. I’m too rough or something.”

“Figures Princesses can’t handle a punch.”

“It’s more the tackling the ground.”

Catra shrugs and the intense atmosphere they’ve manufactured dissolves, much to Adora’s relief. 

“You could train with me. I know I’m a good actress but I’m so fucking bored in here.” 

There’s hesitancy in her words - like Adora could ever reject an offer like that. Still, she looks at the walls, how undeniably close they are.

“Not much space in here for it. You’re at a bit of a disadvantage.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“Gods you’re so dramatic... But I’ll ask about making the spell bigger okay?”

“Sounds good.” Catra’s tail waves behind her. 

Said tail that suddenly goes stick straight at the sound of the door opening. Adora can’t help a breathy laugh as she collapses back to the floor. She turns her head to be able to look at the door, but it’s not exactly needed since the voice is so familiar.

“Hi Catra - oh.” Bow takes a moment to clock their situation, and while she may be slightly oblivious, she’s not so much so as to not understand the confusion (and apprehension) present on her friend’s face. “Sorry Adora, Glimmer told me you were still asleep. Or maybe she was just hoping. I didn’t think you’d be here, basically, so I came to - yeah.”

“No I - I woke up early.” 

“I should’ve figured.”

She’s blushing. She has to be. And Catra _has_ to have noticed because when she glances at her out the corner of her eye she’s got a small grin again, just so entirely wicked. 

It melts a little when Catra looks back to Bow, still hovering in the (closed) doorway. “It’s fine Bow.”

He doesn’t seem to believe her, looking between them again in a way Adora really does not like. It reads like a study. “I can leave if you want.”

“Adora doesn’t mind, do you?” 

She can’t help how she imagines Catra purring with the words, and it’s the biggest mistake of her life. (She wants to bury her face in her hands but that’ll just draw more attention to the red in her cheeks so…) 

“Nope. It’s fine. Can you get off me?” It comes out too sharp due to her own - discomfort? Embarrassment? Both? 

Catra rolls her eyes and somehow she knows if they were alone she’d shrug and say _‘make me’_ and they’d be right back to wrestling on the floor. But they’re not, so Catra dismounts her hips with the supernatural grace that’s always mesmerised her. It leaves her slightly immobilized for all of three seconds. 

"You going to stand there, Arrow Boy, or are you going to join us?"

His entire face lights up. "I can come in?"

"I'm offering, aren't I?" 

Catra's still acting like...well _Catra_ around other people. (An observation that should not have her feeling so happy.)

Bow almost skips as he comes over (which Catra seems to be holding herself back from saying anything about), and the three of them settle onto the now-scattered cushions all over the floor. It occurs to her that outside of her carrying Catra’s dying body, she’s never been in the same room as both Catra and Bow while they were all on the same side. It’s nice - wonderful, actually - but it also means she has no idea how to act at all. 

It doesn't help that apparently this is the first time Bow's been invited through the barrier. (Which means he didn't cut her hair, which means Catra did it herself, which means that whatever ugly feeling the thought brought is satiated. A definite good thing; she doesn't have to push it down if it's been resolved.)

Luckily Bow makes the first step into the non-existent conversation, “What were you doing?”

It’s a fair question from...well from anyone who didn’t grow up in the Fright Zone. (She’s had to learn that the hard way.)

“Wrestling, obviously,” Catra answers.

“And that’s...normal for you two?”

“Yup.”

He has his momentary revelation as _something_ seems to click. Adora’s not sure if she wants to know what.

“Huh. You know that story makes a lot more sense now.”

Both her and Catra respond with; “Which story?” Though Catra asks it with intrigue, while she has mild dread on her tongue. 

There’s a confusion-filled smile before he turns to Catra on the other side of her. “Well I don’t know much, but after like the first few months here Adora tried to tackle Glimmer. Makes sense now.”

“Wait, she told you?” The sudden tension in her body can clearly be seen given the way Catra snickers. 

Bow shrugs, “She tells me everything, you know that.”

She lets her head loll back against the chair; she _does_ know that. They _have_ just gotten back to that place again, so whatever happens right now will probably get regurgitated back to Glimmer sooner rather than later. Given the position Bow found them in, she’s not looking forward to being around Glimmer for the next few days. At least Bow won't say anything directly. Glimmer - Glimmer might. 

Catra brushes her tail against her arm (there's only static in Adora's head for a second) and she sounds way too pleased with herself when she says, “Gonna share the whole story, Adora? I think we deserve it.”

She opens her mouth to say no but Catra just gives her this _look_ that tells her she’ll get it out of her one way or another. 

She sighs, “I tried to tackle Glimmer because...because that’s just what you do with best friends...”

At least Catra will understand that much. She worries for a moment that Catra will get angry at her for referring to Glimmer as her best friend (Catra didn’t even handle her having other _friends_ well in the Horde) but she doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. 

Catra’s actually grinning a little. “Apparently not here.”

She throws her arms up. “Well I didn’t know that! So I tried tackling her and she teleported...and I was so disoriented by it I fell on my face. Okay, happy?”

Catra laughs, not the way she does when they’re alone, but close to it. This is more restrained, and while she’s disappointed at the lack of her squeaky giggle, she’s unfairly glad she’s still the only person who’s heard it. 

“Of course you fucking did, you dork.”

“If you ever get teleported you will _understand_ , okay?”

“Oh I’m not letting Glitter’s magic anywhere near me. Princesses are one thing, magic is another.”

Bow cuts in, “Never know, you ever think you’d be living in Brightmoon?”

“...No. I can honestly say I never _once_ thought that.” 

Bow hums, spinning on the cushion he’s sitting on to lie with his head at Adora’s feet. Easier to see Catra she supposes. It’s so remarkably relaxed.

“Bet there’s lots of things that can happen now that you never thought could.”

Catra scoffs, “That’s not exactly a hard bar to pass.”

Bow looks uncomfortable for a second and it’s frankly ridiculous how much pride surges through her when Catra softens further, sighing when she says, “Go on then. Give me some examples.”

Her and Bow meet in a glance, she thinks it reads; _‘I like her.’_

She doesn’t respond. Not out loud anyway.

 _‘Yeah. I like her too.’_

It sounds lovestruck even in her head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jealous!Adora makes an appearance because I said so. Girl had Catra to herself her whole life with literally no competition for her affection; therefore, she experiences jealousy and has no idea what the hell it is. 
> 
> (And since this came out hornier than I intended here's a sidebar: they're both switches and that kinda came through here which really wasn't my fault. I feel like when they make out it's either really soft and loving or its essentially a fight with kissing and there's no in-between. Also people seem to think when it comes to praise kinks it's one or the other. Absolute fools. _Both_ of them have praise kinks. Catra wants compliments and Adora wants to be told she's good. It's not rocket science.)
> 
> Also just threw some plot in there and this time it was actually on purpose.


	16. Walls: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora makes good on what she said.

***Catra***

She’s been in this tiny little circle for over a month and a half now. And yet somehow, it manages to feel too short. Adora makes good on what she said and the day comes where Glimmer, Bow, Adora and the former King of Brightmoon come to her prison. It’s the most people she’s been around at once since before she’d killed Hordak.

Throughout her childhood people had gawked at her; the only one of her species in the Horde as far as she was aware. People got bored of her soon enough, but she still remembers the way they gaped before getting ahold of themselves.

She has never felt more like an exhibit than she does right now. 

It has her holding one of her arms, a move unconscious but obvious enough in her discomfort that Adora’s shoulders fall and she’s rushing to her side. The arm that comes around her back brings her heart rate down from it’s spike. As much as she wishes not to, it feels like ‘us versus them’. As much as she wishes it not to, it feels like old times. 

_‘That's not a bad thing.’_ Her selfish head tells her. 

Furniture has been coming in through the week. A table and chairs, a mirror, and a bed. It’s more than she ever had in the Fright Zone. She’s grateful for all of it, even more so the gifts Adora brings her. (Not that she tells Glimmer that.) It’s not much, just some books Adora thought she might like.

( _“You can read?”_  
_“Yes Catra, I can read.”_ ) 

But somehow she still manages to wonder if they were able in their youth, whether or not Adora would have done this for her then; brought her gifts if they were given the chance. In some ways she had, and in some ways Adora had. Rocks and little pieces of rubble. 

Before all of this though, before she’d known this was even to happen, Adora had come with a box. Something called a ‘chess set’ and set it down on the floor outside her spell (since she did not yet have the table.) 

She’d asked, _“What’s the point?”_

The whole of the day Adora never lost this soft little smile. It was unfair really, for her to look that pretty, and for Catra to not be able to feel that smile against her lips. But such has always been her life, so unfortunately, she is used to this. (Doesn’t stop her wanting it with every inch of her being whenever Adora touches her, however innocently.)

Adora had shrugged, _“You said you were bored.”_

_“The point of the game, Adora.”_

_“Oh, strategy. Winning.”_

That had certainly got her attention. _“Teach it to me?”_

Adora had shook her head, still smiling. _“I’m saving it for a special occasion.”_ She had waited for Adora to elaborate. _“Glimmer agreed. You get this whole room in a week's time. We’re just waiting for King Micah to return from his visit to Salineas.”_

_“And then I get this whole room to myself?”_

_“Uh huh.”_

_“Well, tell Glimmer I said thanks.”_

_“How about you tell her yourself, tomorrow? Said she was going to come see you.”_

And Glimmer had, five days ago. And she’s here again now, looking at her father: the not-dead King. He’s not at all what Catra might expect a King to be, but Beast Island doesn’t sound like somewhere where regality would remain given the _decade_ he’s spent there. (She ignores the sharp guilt in her mouth; Entrapta.) 

Glimmer is holding a vial full of blue light that might as well be star shine. The Queen asks, “You ready?”

She keeps her voice steady, “I guess.” 

“Can I come in?” Bow asks. 

She nods, trying to tamp down the low, anxious wave of her tail. (She wonders why he still asks, but it’s not like she wants him to _stop_. It’s nice.) He comes next to her on her other side.

Glimmer and the King set to work spilling the liquid around the edges of the room, its glow getting even brighter as Micah instructs his daughter on the proper way to move her hands. It’s so wholly odd to see. She looks to Adora and finds the same feeling there; they’re outsiders to this. Family, mentorship, whatever else. She leans into her further. Adora lets her.

The sorcerers work around every wall, moving a potted plant out the way as they go. They even go into the attached bathroom. She watches their every move (mostly because she has no idea what else to do) until it _seems_ done. But it must not be because the King is standing on the other side of the not-glass looking at her.

“Hello...uh, Catra is it?” He looks at his daughter for reassurance. Glimmer nods enthusiastically, even Bow gives the King a wary thumbs up. The oddness just keeps growing. “Can I come in?”

She’s surprised he’s asking (and that he seems to be copying Bow for how to act.) Then again, maybe he doesn’t know what she’s done. There’s more pressing issues to deal with, more crucial things for him to know than her endless series of atrocities. Which makes this a new kind of worrying. First impressions aren’t something she’s ever succeeded with, not something she’s ever tried to get right before. (It was the Horde; she didn’t care.)

Does this count as a part of her ‘trying’? Probably. She glances at Adora’s face anyway, but there’s no indication of what she should do there.

“Of course...your majesty,” even she flinches a little when she says it. Everyone save the King turns to her sharply. “Yeah it sounded wrong to me too.”

Glimmer snickers a little and Bows smiling though, so aside from her own mild mortification, everything seems to be fine. She can feel Adora smiling at her too, but that one she fights not to look back to. 

It really doesn’t take all too long after that. She moves (with Adora still around her) out of the way when needed, careful to not step on the glowing solution. The last of the liquid joins the lines of the old spell to the new, and the King makes a circle of cyan in the air out of nothing. The walls she’s been staring at for so long fall like a curtain to the ground, sinking into the spell lines without a trace before that same rolling blue transparency rises from the ground at the edges of the room. It crawls quickly up the walls before disappearing into the ceiling.

Adora lets her go. She wishes she hadn’t, but she can’t bring herself to move back into her arms. She can’t really bring herself to move much at all. She reasons that it’s magic; after everything, her whole childhood, she’s allowed to feel uncomfortable around it.

She’s watching Glimmer when the Queen tenses, eyes flicking into hers suddenly. She looks different - less blue. She hasn't seen Glimmer without the barrier since, well, since she’d asked her to kill her. It’s not exactly a pleasant thing to realise, and it’s clear she’s not the only one to. 

Evidenced enough in how Glimmer sounds a little strained when she says, “Is it weird to say that we’ll let you get settled in?”

She _is_ succeeding in not gritting her teeth. “Little bit, Sparkles.”

“Well, we’ll leave you alone then.”

Glimmer tugs on her father's arm, the King turns, looking away from the wall - seeing if the spell worked, she supposes. “It was nice to meet you, Catra.”

She does not think anyone, in her entire life, has _ever_ said that to her. It’s really the shock of it that keeps her from laughing. “Nice to meet you too…”

Adora is beaming far too wide at her side.

_‘Such a dork.’_

(Idly she wonders how long it took Adora to break out of the salute they’d drilled into them as kids, seeing as she doesn’t feel inclined to do so now.)

The sorcerer looks about as sure as she feels comfortable, which really, is not very. “Call me Micah. I never liked the title anyway.”

She feels her ear flick. “Okay. Micah.”

“See you tomorrow?” Bow asks on the way out.

She nods and waves at the three persons leaving, not trusting her voice to be anything other than a bite. She is actually absolutely fine with Bow coming to see her tomorrow, she just does not particularly want him here right now. She doesn’t want anyone (but Adora) near her right now. Her skin feels itchy with it.

Glimmer, it seems, feels the same way - the not wanting to be near her right now at least. If it were just the two of them, Glimmer would be long gone in a shower of glitter by now. Somehow she knows it’s going to be a while before Glimmer comes and sees her again. (Alone anyway.)

Adora whispers close to her ear once they leave, “You can move, you know.”

It makes her jump, which she hates for a lot of reasons, but that smug smile she can _feel_ without having to look is the main one. “Shut up, I know that.”

“You do?”

It’s so fucking stupid that Adora’s shitty little attempt at mocking makes her feel so much better. She can feel her toes now (a feeling she hadn’t realised she’d lost till then), she can walk past that dreaded line and go over and sit on the - _her_ \- bed. It’s nicer than any bed she’s ever seen, but honestly that’s not saying much. The blankets are thicker, there’s more of them, there’s no holes in it, and there’s no scents belonging to anyone else clinging to them. The bedframe is still metal but it’s slightly mobile - not built into a wall or the floor. And of course, it’s pastel just like everything else.

Adora follows her, gesturing at the furniture. “We figured you’d prefer this to a normal Brightmoon bed.”

This isn’t normal? (She should’ve expected that.) She dreads to think, “What are the normal beds like?”

Adora hums. “You ever seen a pastry?”

“...No.”

Adora’s eyebrow quirks. “You ever seen a cloud?”

She snorts quietly, “Yes, moron, I’ve seen a fucking cloud.”

“Well then you get the idea!”

It’s really cute when Adora starts using her arms when she talks, _especially_ when she clearly has no idea she’s doing it. But if she draws attention to it, she’s just going to stop so...

“Take it this is your fault then?” She pats the mattress (and the softest fabric she’s ever felt that’s covering it.)

Adora crosses her arms, fighting a smile. She might even be pouting a little as she comes and sits beside her. “Wouldn’t phrase it like that.”

Okay so she did then. Sometimes she still struggles to trust that Adora even still cares. Despite her coming to see her every day. Despite how readily she accepts her touch. But things like knowing she thinks about her outside these walls well, it helps.

“Oh sorry, would her royal highness like a thank you letter? I’ll go get my wax seal.”

She should really expect the headlock Adora takes her into - it’s been happening a more and more lately. (For pettier and pettier reasons.) She’s missed it. Even the knuckles grinding into her skull as she struggles. 

“That would be so thoughtful of you - really nice - and kind - and generous.” 

She can’t stop laughing. Even her protests get corrupted with them. (Adora too, is really trying to muffle her snickering.) She scrambles at Adora’s arms around her neck, but without her claws out Adora doesn’t stop. This is what she gets for trying to be better apparently.

“You are worse than the Princesses!” 

Adora’s arms let up enough for her to escape and she tries (and fails) to flatten her hair back down at least a little. 

Adora looks far too pleased with herself. “‘Course I am, I’m an ex-Princess aren’t I?”

She flicks Adora’s forehead, snickering at her annoyed little exclamation. 

“Kind of forgot you got a tiara.”

Adora doesn’t seem to take the words as sound - which she’s right to do. She didn’t forget. How could she? She doesn’t acknowledge it. There’s a difference.

Adora looks away, muttering, “You know what...I - I don’t know if I miss it.”

She suspects Adora was half-hoping she wouldn't hear. But she's an idiot if she ever thought she wouldn't, given that she's right next to her. 

She has no idea how to react. Not the words themselves, and definitely not the shame she can pick out of them. She wants to comfort her, she wants to hide. (She wants there to have never been She-Ra in the first place but that’s never been an option.) If someone had asked her even a few months ago, she would’ve said without a doubt, that Adora loved being She-Ra; being worshipped by the entire planet. But she’s learning, ever so slowly, that that was not (has not) ever been the case. Adora doesn’t feel like she deserves the praise, or the thanks, for anything she's done. She thinks her best is the bare minimum. If Catra had been anything other than bitter about it, she would’ve seen that growing up. It's just another regret. As with most things in her life, she finds the roots of things are bathed in shadows and red lightning. 

She sighs, tail curling close to her body on the bed. “Guess we haven’t really talked about _her_ yet…”

Adora’s sudden hand on her thigh makes her whole body freeze with shock. Adora’s never done _that_. Not anytime that she can remember anyway. The contact leaves practically as soon as it comes; Adora seeming to realise her own action. She can’t bring herself to look to see how Adora feels about her slip up.

Adora stands swiftly, crossing the room. “And we won’t, not right now. Believe I promised to teach you a game?” 

She's not looking at her and suddenly she needs Adora's eyes like she needs air to breathe. She doesn't get them though. 

As grateful as she is for not having that conversation right now, she is _concerned_ ; isn’t she meant to be the one who doesn’t want to talk about things? If anything could make her want to talk about She-Ra, figures it would be Adora _not_ wanting to. If only because she wants to know why - there is no reason she can understand that Adora would give up an open opportunity _from her_ to talk about a serious matter to teach her a game.

But she’s having trouble thinking, the ghost of a handprint branded onto her thigh and burning reason from her head. (It’s ridiculous, she’s aware.) 

But she’s still concerned for Adora, regardless of how easily she can render her useless. It filters through when she says, “That you did...Princess.”

“Ex-Princess.” 

It sounds like Adora’s smiling through gritted teeth. It’s a sound Catra’s familiar with. 

_'Adora, please, just look at me.'_

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I was expecting to write the whole of this without Catra calling her Princess. Then this happened. I'm just weak for it ok sue me.
> 
> And oh look at that maybe it's some plot. 
> 
> Micah and Adora get along. So would Castaspella and Catra. If you want me to elaborate on this I will but it won't be in this fic. (Probably.)


	17. Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Catra's turn to try and break some walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School and this chapter kicked my ass this week I'm sorry.
> 
> (Also let it be known I love Adora _in spite of_ her hair poof.)

***Catra***

It didn’t take all that long for her to be comfortable with the extra space. She had lain in the bed long enough that it started smelling like her, after that it was back to the same thing she’d done every other day. (With some added reading and trying to remember which of the intricate little stone pieces could move where.)

When Adora arrives today, she’s...weird. Hovering in the doorway and looking uncomfortable - worried. Not enough that it permeates the air, but enough that her anxiety is contagious. She gets closer on instinct, watching how Adora reacts carefully, the blonde watching her in turn. Only a few feet between them and some tension slips from Adora’s shoulders. 

She resists the urge to reach out for Adora’s hand, instead settling for taking the trays from her. “What is it?”

Adora can’t meet her eyes. “I know you like your space. And I don’t want to make you feel like you _have_ to be near me.”

“Adora…” she admonishes, but it trails off. 

There’s really no way for her to say, _“You’re so fucking stupid, I always want you near me dumbass,”_ without raising a lot of questions she cannot answer. 

She sighs, getting a grip on one of Adora’s wrists and dragging her over to the table. (They can actually eat at a table now, it’s a rather novel thing.) She lets go and sits, setting the trays out while Adora hesitantly takes the opposite seat. She’s relaxing a little more every second but it’s not enough. It leaves her thinking of what to say, the both of them eating as she does so.

She drums her claws on the wood, swallowing down the bacon in her mouth. “If I want space I’ll ask, okay?”

Apparently that’s all Adora needed because the tension drains away entirely. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Adora sighs, leaning back in her chair. “Okay, okay that’s good. Yeah, that’s -”

She can’t help snickering lightly as she takes another bite. “Good?”

“Yeah.”

She points her fork at her. “You’re an idiot. You know that?” 

Adora rolls her eyes. “I ought to, given how often you remind me.”

“Just keeping your ego in check.”

Adora rests her elbow on the table, hides her smile behind a loose fist. It fades though, as much as Catra doesn’t want it to. Adora’s hand falls back to the table, her fingers beginning to worry a path along the edge of it. 

“Catra I’m - I’m going away again. Salineas. Four days.”

_‘Why do you sound so nervous?’_

She’s disappointed, of course she is. But she’s getting used to it; that and holding onto the hope that Adora’s coming back. That she’s not leaving her. That she’s not going to be without her again. She handled almost three years, she can _handle_ less than a week. 

“When?”

“Three days from now.”

_‘Why won’t you look at me?’_

She pauses, staring Adora down until her eyes flick to hers. It’s a win, a small pitiful one, but a win nonetheless. Maybe acting like nothing is wrong would be the better way to go about getting answers, but it’s a little too late for that. She leans back, arms crossing and tail flicking. 

“Who’s going with you?”

Some of the wood varnish is under Adora’s fingernails now. “Bow...and Glimmer.”

_‘There it is.’_

“...I’ll be alone.”

There’s pity and apologies in Adora’s eyes now. She doesn’t know whether to be insulted or touched that Adora’s finally starting to understand. 

“Yeah. Is there - is there _anyone_ else you want to come see you?”

She has an answer, an answer so clear it makes her dizzy. Scorpia... And subsequently every heartbroken, disappointed face she’s ever caused her to wear.

“I - I'll think about it.”

Adora informs her they’ve dismissed the guards outside her room since it’s clear the spell won’t break. It’s a boring topic of conversation (even if it eases her to know a little), and she tires of it quickly when Adora keeps explaining exactly why Glimmer chose to do it. (Glimmer is wary of being around her without a barrier but she wants to show her good faith is essentially what it boils down to.)

“You know there _is_ something else we can do.” 

“Oh yeah and what’s that?” Adora says as she collects their trays onto one. 

“Well, I seem to recall that there was a reason why I suddenly have all this room.”

Adora raises her eyebrow. “You want to fight?”

“Train. But sure.”

The speed at which Adora leaves her chair has her laughing. It’s like someone just flipped a switch, energy suddenly flowering through her. It’s nice to see that again.

“Wait, do you _want_ me to go get staffs from the gym?” 

It’s cute that she’s asking, seeing as Adora’s clearly already assumed that's what they’d be doing anyway. And while Catra hadn’t actually thought of that, the distance staffs provide will help. Hand-to-hand is an excellent excuse to be a little more touchy than they have been (not that either of them have exactly been sparing in contact), but she really should be taking any opportunity to limit her suffering. (She already wants to kiss her every second they’re together, and it’s not like contact helps that in any regard.)

She’s both excited and dreading it. She has missed just simply _moving_ , missed sparring with Adora even more. But the scent of Adora’s sweat is not something she’s ever forgotten and given how much she has _not_ been ignoring her feelings this could get overwhelming very quickly. Then there’s the whole matter of Adora’s muscles which...really she has not fully considered the consequences of this agreement. If Adora pins her like last time, gods if she _purrs_ again like she did last time...

But with the way Adora’s looking at her, so shamelessly _beaming_ at her because of this. She really is helpless but to agree. She gives a one shoulder shrug, trying not to let how much she loves this absolutely ridiculous woman show.

“If you want.”

Adora practically jumps as she half-sprints from the room.

* * *

She spends the wait warming up unused muscles, her daily stretches not doing all that much to keep them strong. She’s still thrilling at even the prospect of doing this again. Almost obnoxiously so. (Not as much as Adora, but she _gets it_.) She tries to crush it down a little before remembering that she doesn’t have to; they’re alone.

She’s not looking at the door when it opens. Her ears flick back towards the noise, she hears something pass through the air and she catches it with muscle memory alone. It has her smirking, just a little.

“Good to know some things never change.”

She spins, finding Adora just in her white shirt and still smiling like she doesn’t know how to do anything else. (She wants to get rid of it, but the only two options for that she can see is to be mean or to kiss her, both of which she is _not_ going to do.)

“Oh things have definitely changed.” 

Adora stretches her arms out and Catra has to pointedly look absolutely anywhere else. Mostly at her own claws that she flexes. They haven’t got started yet; she doesn’t have anything to blame her flush or dry throat on. 

“Enlighten me.”

She gets closer on instinct, ignoring the warning signs her rational mind starts yelling. “No wardens...no superior officers - _no Shadow Weaver_ \- I don’t have to play by the rules any more.”

Adora scoffs lightly, “As if you ever played by the rules.”

She can’t help her own obnoxious grin. “Fair. But did I ever use my claws when we trained?”

She loves how Adora’s eyes drop to her hands when she registers the familiar sound of those claws making themselves known. Adora’s shoulders drop as she thinks, that is until Adora’s smiling again slowly.

“...You didn’t, did you?”

She’s unsure as to why Adora’s got an unfamiliar shine in her eyes. She can’t help pushing at it, just because it’s fun. (Just because she wants to look at it forever.) 

“Or my teeth.”

That shine gets brighter and Catra has no idea what _exactly_ she’s done to elicit it, but she will spend the rest of her life trying to figure it out if she needs to. 

Adora readies her staff. “Don’t hold back on me.”

“Wasn’t planning on it Princess.”

She would say Adora is nervous by the way she swallows but it’s offset by the undying smile on her face. It’s a power rush to say the least, on both accounts.

It’s a well known dance. One easy to fall into; their push and pull and lashing like the sea. She feels younger, carefree in a way she hasn’t known since she was a preteen. She’s smiling, but she’s sure there’s not much else to it other than teeth. 

“So this whole ‘Princess’ thing, how long are you gonna keep it up?”

She gets closer. They are _training_ after all, and she’s always been allowed to touch her when they’re like this. “Does it bother you?” 

Adora’s ready to parry her again - it’s not like she was trying to hit her anyway - when she knocks her staff. Another warm up move if anything until she hooks the ends of the staffs together to try and twist it out of Adora’s grasp. All it does is pull her off center. She spins behind her, taking the opportunity to drag her tail against Adora’s side before backing off again.

Even with the few feet between them she can see the flush in Adora’s cheeks, can blame it on her actions rather than adrenaline if she really wants to. (And she does. Because apparently she wants to torture herself today.)

“No - no it’s...fine. I’m just surprised it’s not bothering _you_.”

She keeps moving, because it’s how she’s always fought, because it means Adora can’t sink her feet into the ground. Her claws clink against the staff as she adjusts her own grip. 

“Oh it does. But messing with you is worth it.”

Adora’s not making any more moves towards her, whole body showing hesitance Catra doesn’t want, so she figures she’s going to have to do it herself. It’s not even a remotely calculated move, just a leap forward to try and goad Adora into trying to hit her properly. It works though, Adora swiping at her sides with the end of the staff. She dodges it easily, pushing her own staff like a bar across Adora’s chest but it’s blocked.

It’s faster than she was expecting. (She is absolutely _not_ impressed.) Adora’s got that fucking smirk on her face - that cocky one she never really let anyone else see because it was _unbefitting_ of a future Horde officer. (Which just made Catra love it more, even if it made her so fucking angry sometimes.)

“And you call me predictable.”

_‘There she is.’_

She knows she’s been relaxing around Adora, that they’re always getting closer to what they were before. But Adora’s been holding back on her too, it’s nice to see her just _be_ finally. 

If Adora’s even slightly wary of her claws so close to her throat she’s not showing it. She should be - she has _permission_ to use them finally. She’s still pushing against Adora when she leaves light scratches along one of her legs with her toe-claws. (Only hard enough to cut the fabric and maybe leave some white lines.) Adora stumbles, clearly unprepared for it, and Catra uses it to sweep her legs out from under her.

“Only because you are.”

Adora huffs a strand of her hair out of her face once she gets the air back in her lungs, most of it having left once she hit the stone floor. (They hadn’t used mats in the Horde, but that doesn’t mean if they have the option now that Catra is going to say no.)

She gives Adora time to raise her staff as a block before she’s pushing down again. They’ve definitely been here before. Adora’s got added strength (added muscle) on her side, but Catra’s got gravity and dirty tricks. She’s also got one of Adora’s thighs trapped beneath her bladed toes. She curls them just slightly, and uses Adora’s distraction to get another couple of inches on her.

“While I have you here, is there anything you want to tell me?”

She’s not sure where it comes from exactly; it’s not a distraction technique. She just knows she’s been thinking about Adora’s odd, _deflecting_ , behaviour since yesterday. 

Adora’s eyes snap up, and if she weren’t already panting from the effort she might be from the panic Catra’s question seems to start up. It’s not what she was going for and she does feel a little guilty, but there is something she is trying to do here. (She cannot be distracted from how the blood, high in Adora’s cheeks, makes her eyes bluer right now.)

“What, no. Of course not.”

Her arm shakes a little when she says it and Catra takes that to mean she’s not entirely wrong in her assumptions - Adora would brag for (what felt like) hours whenever she set a new plank record. (It was, at most, maybe a passing comment, she was just insecure _and_ impressed, it didn’t make for a good mix.) And while she’s not making it _easy_ for her, it’s not hard compared to what both of them are used to. But this knowledge makes her confident enough to push a little more, whittle her way under Adora’s skin since she’s apparently so very good at it. When she gets close enough she can hear Adora’s heart beat thundering. 

“Maybe talk about something you’ve been avoiding?”

Adora straightens up her arms with enough force to send her sprawling to the side. (Which is her fault, she should've seen that coming.) Adora returns to their position, the hair falling from the band dripping like golden vines now they’re reversed.

“Catra I don’t know what you’re -“

She manages to keep her snort to a flick of her ears. “Yes you do - tiara ringing a bell?”

Adora sets her jaw, face carefully blank. She doesn’t say anything. Catra’s arms twinge from the continuous force she’s putting into holding Adora’s body weight above her. (Figures Adora’s not holding back _now_.) It takes a couple moments for her to decide what she’s going to do, but then she shifts her grip, both hands at the right end of her staff. Adora clearly doesn’t know what she’s intending to do, but that’s a good thing. It means she’s not prepared for it when she collapses her arms in, catching Adora before flipping her onto her back. 

She throws her own staff to the side so she doesn’t end up with it accidentally pressed up against Adora’s throat. But she keeps her claws out, digging carefully into the skin and fabric at the base of Adora’s neck as she keeps herself upright. 

Adora’s staff ends up lying across her chest, she’s not even holding it anymore, or making any moves to fix that. No, her hands are holding Catra’s shoulders from the fall. She can smell her here, the only reason she’s able to think through it being that Adora hasn’t begun sweating like she thought she would. (Makes sense she supposes, actual fighting added onto training made both of them fitter in the long run.)

She focuses on trying to talk rather than the fact that she is once again straddling Adora on the floor of her room. (And that Adora isn’t trying anything to push her off. Again.) She pulls her claws in, Adora’s hands softening on her as well in response. It doesn’t seem gentle enough for what she’s trying to do - she’s still essentially holding her down. It’s stupid - _so_ fucking stupid of her - but she reaches a hand up, brushes Adora’s hair out of her face before returning the hand to its place.

Adora’s whole body freezes (including her breathing) before relaxing slowly into it. She doesn’t look _upset_ (the only reason she’s not stopping and pretending this never happened), just confused. She wonders what reason Adora will come up with for her doing this, but she really has no idea. And she doesn’t care right now. She will. But not yet. 

“I know I have absolutely no right to demand for you to talk to me but...please? I want - I want you to be able to talk to me okay?”

Adora’s still as surprised from the juxtaposition of her actions and words as she was a few minutes ago. It takes a couple of moments for her to catch up with what she’s asking. She still looks confused.

“I do - I do want to talk to you.”

 _‘Then act like it.’_

She’s just glad she manages to hold her tongue for once in her life. But she doesn’t bother to hide how she doesn’t believe the words Adora is giving her. 

Adora’s looking at her shoulder when she says, “...You win this round. Can you let me up?”

Not even Adora willingly giving up a fight is going to get her to drop this. (Which really is a testament to her own stubbornness if anything.) 

“Are you not even going to admit that something is bothering you?” The tips of her claws catch in Adora’s shirt again. She doesn’t care. 

Adora stays silent. For a full minute. (She counts.) But whatever it is she’s doing must be working, because Adora turns her head sharply so she's glaring uncertainly at the far wall, whole body deflating when she says, “Fine! Something’s bothering me! Happy?”

Not entirely. But its a fucking start.

She’s not sure how much more she could get out of her if she kept Adora here, but that option dies as soon as a purr bubbles out of her throat at Adora’s admission. It cuts out as soon as she realises she’s doing it (less than a second really) but with Adora _underneath_ her, she heard. And Adora’s head snaps back to her at it. 

She can only assume Adora’s thinking _‘it makes you_ that _happy?’_ Or something similar. She half scrambles off her, collecting her staff from the floor and finding a starting place on the other side of the room. Her tail won’t stop flicking. 

Adora meanwhile forces herself into a sitting position, slowly making her way to standing, pole back in her hands. Steel eyes study her for a second, making Catra solidify her own version of Adora’s thoughts. 

“I’m not _avoiding_ talking about her. I’m just _not_ talking about her.”

It’s bullshit. But it’s something. She knows if Adora weren’t holding something she’d be rubbing at the back of her neck. 

“Thought we said no more lies.” It’s got more bite than she meant. 

Technically neither of them had said it aloud, but they might as well have. It’s clear she’s not the only one to read it like that with the way Adora curls in on herself.

Adora mumbles, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

_‘Yeah no shit.’_

“You know that just makes me want to talk about it more, right?” She manages to keep it soft, if a little teasing, this time. 

Adora sighs, but she doesn’t sound upset. “...Of course it does.”

“Tell me. Please.”

She has never said _‘please’_ so much in her fucking life. She thinks it’s about as close to begging as she’s ever come to. She knows Adora knows that. She hates that it would be so easy to pry her open; all it would take is one _‘Please, for me?’_ and Adora’s selfless obligation would dictate that she has to. But she wants Adora to come to her (at least somewhat) willingly.

Adora’s clearly deliberating in her head as she circles the floor. Really all she’s doing is walking, staff loose in her hands. Catra keeps the distance, mirroring her. If she needs to keep her moving, that’s fine.

“I don’t want you to worry.” Adora winces, whether it’s from the words, or the sound of her staff scraping along the floor, she’s not sure.

“Guess what genius, I’m already worried.”

Adora looks confused for a moment; like she couldn’t believe _Catra_ worries about her too. She’s almost insulted. 

“Catra I’m…I don’t want you to. I don’t want _anyone_ to.”

She forces herself not to growl, it won’t help anything. “Adora…” 

There’s so much _shame_ on her face. It’s fraying Catra’s nerves more with every second. (She hadn’t realised it was necessarily _nerves_ she is feeling but she’s sure of it now.)

“You’re friends are always going to worry about you when you don’t fucking tell them what’s wrong, idiot.” It was _meant_ to be half-teasing. It comes out more sad than anything else. 

“Guess I didn’t think about it like that… Everyone else lets things like this go.”

“I’m not like everyone else here, so you can trust that I won’t… Not anymore.”

She mumbles the last bit to the wind that’s gently carding through the room. Adora hears it; she must do with the way her posture falls slightly. 

Catra drops her staff to the floor, walking over slowly enough that Adora could move away if she wants space. (Not that it’s something Adora’s ever asked for before, but a lot of things have changed, she sees no harm in offering.) But Adora stays rooted to her spot, that sadness never really leaving. She doesn’t even flinch when Catra’s hands, carefully clawless, hold onto her arms. She can’t stop the twitch of her ears when the metal clangs to the floor.

She takes a steadying breath. “Do you not want to tell _me_ , or this a no-one-knows situation?”

As much as she wouldn’t like it, she could deal with the first option. Adora has other people to help her now. And it’s not like she _wants_ to talk about feelings, she just wants Adora to feel better. 

“...The second one.”

She takes a moment to figure out where the fuck to go from here. There’s really only one thing she can think of. 

“Chair or bed?”

“Huh?” Adora’s confusion is fair, it’s quite a leap in conversation topic. 

“Fine, I’ll pick.”

Adora’s basically standing in front of the armchair anyway. She pushes her backwards until the back of her legs hits the cushions, then climbs on after, settling into the opposite side and holding her arms out. She wants Adora to come _willingly_.

Adora doesn’t hesitate _too_ much before she's realising what this is and crawls over and into her arms, swinging her legs over. She keeps her chin resting on Adora’s head (on top of her stupid hair poof) rather than burying her nose in her hair. She still needs to actually pay attention if Adora speaks. 

But Adora doesn’t. For such a long time it makes her tail start twitching. Which Adora notices because _of course_ she does. Adora bundles deeper into her neck and she has to stomp down on the purr that’s sitting eagerly on her lungs.

“I’ll - I’ll talk, okay? Just give me a minute to try and...yeah.”

She hums an affirmation. Words have never come easily to either of them. And when it comes to the truth, right now at least, she is more than happy to wait.

“I just feel like people are disappointed.”

She can’t stop the way her hand tenses on Adora’s shoulder. Adora had shifted before she spoke - a silent sign that she was ready. It stops her reacting any more than she already has. 

“Because She-Ra’s gone?”

Adora's been holding her breath against her neck, but at that she feels her inhale weave through her fur. Then a miniature nod. She didn’t think Adora could curl in anymore.

“Yeah... The only reason I’m here - that I was even allowed in the Rebellion - is because of her. Now I - I don’t know.”

If there was ever a time for her to not move, it would be now. She forces her tail not to snap. She wants to growl against the outright absurdity of the idea; that the Rebellion wouldn’t want her otherwise. The best soldier Catra’s ever known, and Adora doesn’t think a side - that was close to losing a war - would want her. Thinks they wouldn’t want her _now_ , even after she saved _every last one of them_.

“That’s bullshit. Even without She-Ra, you would’ve joined the Rebellion as soon as you found out what the Horde was doing. You’re too good not to. And they would've been just as fucking grateful of you because you - you’re amazing.”

“You really think so?” She thinks Adora's trying for teasing but it comes out confused. 

“I will not be repeating that outside of this moment okay? But yeah… And Glimmer doesn’t let you stay here because you’re a Princess -” Adora pokes her stomach weakly. “- Were a Princess. You live here, idiot.”

Adora still sighs deeply. “Everything would be so much easier if I hadn’t destroyed the sword… She-Ra is gone and it’s all my fault.” Adora’s hands fist in the front of her clothes, she can feel the rigidness in Adora’s jaw against her skin. “Fuck, Catra, I’m useless without her, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” The sudden volume shift has her jolting.

“What? No! No I don’t - I - she’s gone because you did the right fucking thing! How the fuck can you be useless when you saved _everybody_?”

“I’m not saving anybody _now_ am I?” 

And just as Adora’s voice breaks, Catra clutches her as tight as she can. 

“You don’t have to, the war is over, no one expects you to do that anymore.”

“But they do - they all do. Everybody expects me to know what to do all the time, but I don’t. I knew how to plan battles, I _learnt_ how to be She-Ra. Everyone loved her, looked up to her - to me - for answers. They still do and I just...I just don’t have them anymore. They all want me to be _her_ again but they know I can’t and they...it’s the way they look at me.”

“How do you think they look at you?”

“Like I’m not useful to them anymore.”

“That’s bullshit -”

“- Catra.”

“No, no, you’re going to fucking listen to me, okay? You told me I’m worth something when I thought that was as far from the truth as you could get, but I’m trying to believe it because you said it, so I’m going to do the same for you. You have so many people that care about you. You don’t need to be useful to people for them to care about you. And if they think you do, they’re not worth it and I’ll kick their ass.”

There’s a pitiful little chuckle. “What, from in here?”

“Well you’ll have to bring them here, but yeah... I know I can’t stop you feeling like this but - but I want to help. You’re not a fucking burden, Adora. You’ve _never_ , not fucking _once_ , been a burden. To me or anyone else.”

Adora pries her hands from her shirt, and they shake as they slide round her waist. “...I don’t - I don’t really believe you. But I’ll try.”

It takes a minute’s deliberation before she allows a whispering purr out of her throat. It’s barely even a sound, a light, continuous trembling in her chest. It’s been so long since she’s let it loose without the immediate panic needed to choke it down. But the obvious hitch in Adora’s breath is worth it; the way she traces patterns on her spine to keep it going is worth it.

“That’s all I’m asking.”

“Suppose I was bound to have my turn at this, wasn’t I?”

“It’s only fair.”

* * *

***Adora***

The next day starts the same. She gets up with the moons, pacing the length of her room, stretching occasionally, till it’s time for her to leave.

Catra acts no different than she did yesterday, which is a bigger relief than she was expecting. She doesn’t - didn’t - judge her for what she said. What she admitted. What she did. (She is still reeling from the feeling of Catra’s arms around her, of her face in her hair, of her purr bouncing around her chest alongside her heartbeat.)

She blames that for why Catra wins three out of the five rounds when they manage to get a _proper_ training session in. She can’t bring herself to care that much, not when Catra’s grinning almost constantly and her ears keep pricking up every time she gets her on the floor like she wasn’t expecting it to work. (She’s just adding to her scattering of bruises, but it doesn’t matter. They’ll heal soon enough.)

She knows they’re both aching afterwards from how long it’s been since either of them have done anything like it. Especially against each other - even Brightmoon guards won’t throw her around as rough as Catra used to. And still does evidently. (There was a reason her and Catra were top of their classes.)

“We’re going to train again when you get back right?” Catra asks as she’s stretching out her arms. 

(Which Adora does not look at. She is looking at Catra’s _face_ because she is _speaking_ and that’s what she is _meant_ to do.)

“Yeah, of course.” She can’t imagine going back to the world where she doesn’t get to do this. 

Catra’s tail waves slowly with her satisfaction at her answer. “Now go shower, you reek.”

If she weren’t almost at the opposite side of the room, she would shove her shoulder. “Says you.”

She lays the staffs in her hand against the wall and collects the trays from the table before heading to the door. Catra’s ear flicks when she looks back at her but she doesn’t think anything of it. 

That is until she puts a hand on the door handle and Catra calls, “Adora?”

“Yeah?”

It’s clear Catra wasn’t expecting herself to speak either. Her ears are back and Adora doesn’t know whether to push the issue or ignore it. 

“It’s nothing. Forget I said anything. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Even Catra winces at just how forced it sounds.

She half-throws the trays in her hands to the floor, going over to Catra with increasingly wary steps. Catra doesn’t flinch again, whole body almost eerily still. But she still lets her hold onto the tops of her arms, a movement familiar enough to be safe. (Not that many instances wherein she used this move ever went _well_ before. She’ll just have to hope it’s different this time. And besides, Catra did it for her yesterday.)

“Catra?” she tries.

She’s expecting it when Catra tries to turn away from her, but her grip won’t let her. Catra won’t look at her and she’s got her jaw set. So she tries something new. 

“Tell me. Please.”

It’s what got _her_ to open up yesterday, figures she might as well try to employ it right now. Doesn’t mean she’s _ready_ for when it actually (starts) to work. 

“Can you…”

“Can I what? Catra, whatever you ask, I’m not going to be angry, okay?”

“It’s selfish... I’m not meant to be that anymore am I?”

Her heart fucking melts. Catra looks so worried about this. She really shouldn’t be. Sure, she’s not _meant_ to be selfish. But selfish and bad don’t necessarily mean the same thing with Catra, at least not anymore.

She loosens her grip - enough that Catra could escape if she wanted - before sliding her hands carefully up to hold onto Catra’s shoulders. She lowers head to try and get her to meet her eyes. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

It gets a weak laugh at least. “You’re such an idiot… I just - can you come back later?”

“Why?”

It comes out before she can stop and she knows she’s fucked up. Catra’s ears flatten against her head fully and her head all but molds itself to her chest.

“- No, no, I mean I’d lov- I’d like to. I really would. You don’t need a reason, okay? I was just surprised. I’ll come back with dinner.” 

She squeezes Catra’s shoulders under her hands to try and ease her further. It must work a little considering the way one of Catra’s hand comes up to hold onto one of hers when she looks back.

“You sure?” Her ears are slowly coming back to their regular position. 

“ _Yes_. I’ll come back and I’ll stay as long as you want me.”

Catra squeezes her hand, but there’s a melancholy in Catra’s eyes she doesn’t understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally Catra doing anything with her muscles (which she definitely has) or claws or teeth (now they're on the same side) Adora is just absolutely weak for. We all saw Shot In The Dark.  
> Adora: What do those claws do? Destory? Amazing. Marry me.
> 
> This got way more emotional than I intended holy shit. They were just meant to fight and then Adora was going to come back later and then boom, She-Ra. It's gonna get gay next chapter :)  
> (Not that this wasn't gay but...)


	18. Where Do You Want Me? (How Do You Want Me?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They always were better in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read Don't Go. Well.  
> This is very tender if I do say so myself.

***Catra***

_“I’ll stay as long as you want me.”_

_‘I always want you. That’s the problem.’_

She half expects Adora not to come back. She wonders if she’ll ever trust in her staying the way she once did - them against the world forever. Childish wishes, she knows, for a childish sentiment. But she believed it, she believed _so hard_ in everything Adora said. Or at the very least she wanted to. 

The trust - that faith - shattered. They’re rebuilding. But it’s not _fixed_. So all that’s left for her to do is pace around her room (despite the ache in her muscles) until nightfall. 

It wasn’t all that often that Adora worried about things, but when she did, well...she can end up looking as Catra does now. (Except Adora doesn’t have a tail she can’t keep still, or senses that kick into overdrive with her stress.) It would be her job to ease her with reason or playful taunts, but that’s never really run true in reverse, mostly because she’s never worried about something this way.

How can she handle the pressure of battle, of lying to the faces of those who look for any excuse to extinguish her, and not something as simple as waiting for Adora to make good on a promise? Unfortunately she knows herself well enough now to realise it’s because Adora _didn’t_ promise anything. She’s relying entirely on that broken faith. Gods Adora makes her a wreck.

* * *

Her whole body locks up whenever she hears footsteps outside her door, and she has to crush down her hope before the wave grows too much. It’s a painful thing to drown in - she doesn’t have to have experienced it to know that.

She holds onto her own arms tightly when she hears footsteps for the fourth time. Only these halt without fading. The first of the evening moons have risen. But it still takes Adora actually opening the door and stepping inside for her to fully believe that she’s _here_. 

“Hey.”

She can’t stop the way her whole body sinks with relief. She resists hugging Adora within an inch of her life, resists her hugging her at all, staying on the opposite side of the room. 

“Hey Adora.”

She curses herself for the softness of it.

“Can I turn on a light?”

She nods, not comfortable trusting her voice not to betray her right now. She braces herself, but it’s not needed. The light isn’t as bright as she expects it to be, it takes her all of a few seconds to clock the waiting look Adora gives her, hand still on the switch; clearly this was intentional. She makes a mental note to figure out how to do that later while rolling her eyes.

She sits at the table, tail snapping when Adora doesn’t move at first, “Sit your ass down, I’m hungry.”

Adora takes the opposite seat with a fond huff.

She tries to not stare while they eat. It doesn’t work. Adora looks different like this, ridded of the warmth of daylight; silver in her hair, only grey in her eyes. Simultaneously harsher and softer, drawing her in, dangerously so.

“Something wrong?”

She shakes her head. An answer and a method of ridding her hopeless thoughts. One that Adora doesn’t take - or maybe she just doesn’t care - getting up and pulling her chair round so they’re adjacent. Her face so annoyingly _open_ while she tries to gauge Catra’s reaction. It means a lot that Adora’s trying so hard to make her comfortable, even if it is stupid.

She rests her head in her left hand, starts eating again as if it’ll distract from how her tail brushes unwittingly against Adora’s leg. She knows it would fully curl around her ankle if Adora were close enough. But that touch is enough to have her blonde idiot beaming anyway.

 _‘She’s not yours, she’s never yours.’_ She wonders how many times in her life she'll have to remind herself of that.

Once again they fall into silence during the meal. That’s fine by her. What's not so fine is the little looks Adora keeps shooting her. She's keeping her gaze firmly on the food in front of her for a _reason_. She can't let herself look because she'll just end up staring at the bruise-blue shadows catching on the side of her face. Adora just has to make everything that much more difficult for her. 

“Now what?” Adora questions when they’re done.

She hums, thinking it through somewhat in her head before getting up. First things first, she turns all the lights back off. (Even if the dimmer lights didn’t hurt her head, they’re not preferable for what she plans to do.) Next she drags her bed over in front of the window, followed by the armchair as a strange headboard. She's not really sure why. 

When she looks back Adora’s got this amused little smile, and finishes her drink before coming over.

“Princesses first,” she says with a mocking bow and a knock of her tail against Adora’s hand. It gets a little laugh from her at least. Adora gets as far as sitting before, “Wait, stop, jacket and shoes off on my bed.”

Adora huffs but complies. She ought not to relax so much from simply seeing Adora without her jacket, but it’s always been something akin to special for her. She knows it makes Adora feel a little exposed, but she’ll do it for her and that...well it means a lot. (Adora knows all this of course, it’s why she does it in the first place.)

“So what _are_ we doing?”

“Stargazing.”

Her younger self would make excuses for this; something along the lines of, _‘you brought back the stars dummy, who else would I ask about them?’_ And while she may be too proud to admit out loud she just wants to look at the sky with her best friend, she has not even considered trying to fool herself. 

Adora looks confused for a moment before standing. She takes a light hold of her hand to lead her towards the window, luckily letting go before the barrier. 

“Then wouldn’t it be better out here?” Adora says to the night air, clearly not realising she hasn’t followed her out. 

“Adora…” she swears she was going to call her stupid. She swears she was, but if she thought Adora was stunning in the artificial light of her room. It’s nothing compared to Adora in the moonlight, looking back at her with her eyes shining brighter than any of the stars outside. She wants to see her with her hair down, she knows it would catch in the breeze like a halo. It’s better this way though, a small saving grace; she doubts she would breathe otherwise, and her feelings are already bordering choking as is. 

“I can’t,” she manages to breathe out.

She hates how clearly she can see Adora’s shoulders sink. “Right, right, sorry.”

She climbs into the armchair, leaving enough space for Adora beside her. Which Adora fits herself into easily when she passes back through the barrier with an almost completely suppressed shudder. Catra tells herself she doesn’t notice; that she is watching the sky intensely the whole time. She does not trust herself not to say something she’ll regret right now. 

She hopes Adora doesn’t notice how her fur bristles slightly when they both settle - the ghost of space between them promising to drive her crazy. 

_‘It’s better this way, it’s better this way, it’s…’_

“I hope you can see them one day, without the barrier.”

She goes to say ‘me too’ before she becomes concerned as to whether or not that is a lie. Getting rid of the barrier she has no qualms with. It’s what must come with that; leaving, the world outside, everyone else she’s ever hurt. Things she should do, things she’s been using the excuse of that very barrier to avoid. (Things like Scorpia, Entrapta, the water Princess and her destroyed Kingdom, the late Queen, the list is endless.)

So she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to worry about her fur anymore, the dampening on her mood returning it to normal. She feels her tail curl in empty space.

“Sorry I - I know you don’t think you’re getting out of here.”

“Adora -”

Adora misreads her tone, “Yeah I know, I’ll shut up.”

“That’s not - tell me about the stars.”

“Oh...ok. Well -“

There’s not many stories, not that she was expecting volumes. There’s people she doesn’t know when Adora talks, _“Razz once told me Mara was from the stars.”_ People she’ll never meet but is starting to get to know anyway. She doesn’t even know how to feel about Adora’s She-Ra (she catches herself before she starts thinking of it as _her_ She-Ra because that is ridiculous. It's also her second slip up of the day.) She can’t afford to feel conflicted about one from a thousand years ago. 

Adora looks wistful, if a little hurt, as she talks about her - Mara - and the things she did. Catra can’t bring herself to ask her to stop. Not when Adora gets closer, wholly unaware she’s even doing it. It shouldn’t make her heart ache nearly as much as it does. This tension she’s sitting in that’s making her heart race, it’s made out of her own feelings; it’s not real. Adora wouldn’t hesitate to touch her as she does right now because it wouldn’t mean anything more to her. 

“The stars had names once…”

She can’t dwell on almosts. She shifts from the armchair onto the mattress to be able to see more of the sky, new clusters of white speckles appearing on the horizon. Adora follows anyway, feet getting tangled in the blankets.

“You know that just means we can make up our own, right?” she half-teases when Adora’s beside her again.

She regrets saying it. Adora shouldn’t be able to smile like that; easy with her eyes closed like there’s nothing else in the world to think about. Adora shouldn't be able to hum and have her enraptured like a child hearing a new story. And she certainly shouldn't be able to look at her like nothing bad has ever happened between them. But she does, for a moment at least, before turning back to the sky, raising her arm and pointing. Adora leans into her and she freezes, she knows it's just so she'll be able to follow where she's looking but really stars are the last thing she's thinking about with Adora and her warmth blanketing her side.

“Alright, that cluster there - what would you call that?”

She waits for Adora to move away because she really cannot think about stars when Adora's chin is practically on her shoulder. She allows herself a single look as Adora lowers her arm, glad of having enough self control to not be caught staring at her smile. The sky is almost dull in comparison.

This isn't a memory - she knows that - but it feels like it. Them side-by-side and looking at the sky. It’s not exactly like when they’d make patterns out of smoke-stained clouds on rooftops, always shifting and changing and fading. Stars stay. This she could write down and come back to again and again. 

“ _Entrapta_.”

Adora hums again, considering this time, and her hand twitches in the space between them. Which just makes her _annoyingly_ aware of it. 

“Why?”

She suddenly regrets saying anything. Because it’s not like she has any good reason to not elaborate. “Looks like a cupcake…”

Adora doesn’t laugh though. “Can I tell her that? You know she’ll be honoured.”

She sighs, “Yeah okay. So, Princess, what would you call that - and don’t say ‘circle’ or I’ll hit you.”

Adora shoves her gently on the shoulder anyway, and she manages to catch a glimpse of her light blush, almost angry at the dark for taking the colour from her.

“I wouldn’t!”

“Yes you would.”

“...Okay maybe. But I won’t, this time.”

She goes to scoff but Adora’s hand comes down to rest on hers and it dies in her chest. Adora bridged that gap like it was nothing. Because it _doesn’t mean anything_ to her. It’s not a new realisation, but it still stings, enough that her claws catch in a blanket.

“I don’t know, what about _Ring_?”

That and the feeling of Adora squeezing her fingers brings her sharply back to the present. She manages to hide her self-inflicted hurt when she says, “Gods you’re a nerd.”

“Better than circle though.”

“Well I suppose there is that one - and I mean one - redeeming thing.”

Adora shrugs, “Good enough for me.”

* * *

By the time the next moon has risen to its peak Adora still hasn’t let go of her hand. She almost wants to cry with how comfortable and easy and _nice_ it is. She doesn't know whether or not they could’ve had this in the Horde but she hopes to the gods that they couldn't. It’s painful to consider any other option, to consider she could've been having this so much sooner. She wants to bring her hand up and kiss each of her knuckles in turn. It’s a strange thing for her to want but she can’t dwell on the idea, let alone the why of it.

“We should write these down.”

“Hm?”

“The names, the patterns.”

“Just what I was thinking.” She thought it earlier, so not a complete lie.

“Sure it was.”

“Shut up.”

She knows her ear flicks given Adora’s soft snort. It’s really quite an awful retaliation when she rests her head on Adora’s shoulder just to get her to be quiet. She forgot. She actually _forgot_ this isn’t the Before. They haven’t _done_ this yet. She silently damns the night. It is its fault after all.

She grits her teeth waiting for a reaction, tail whipping across the bed. But Adora takes her by surprise; instead of rejecting or even just letting it be, she returns it, leaning on her too. It takes everything she has to swallow down the purr in her chest, it feels like it’s sitting on her heart. 

She’s grateful Adora says nothing. She doesn’t doubt that she would run as far as she could at the first opportunity. It’s not that she doesn't love this, it’s that she loves it too much. She _can’t_ get used to this. But she also _can’t_ pull away. Because she’s _still_ lovesick and foolish and will take from Adora all that she can get.

Adora doesn’t talk, so she doesn’t either. The only sound is that which curls through the air outside and in through her window, the beating of their own hearts, and steady breathing. By now she’d have closed the curtain and changed into the sleep clothes Bow had gotten her, but she really can’t bear to lose one second of the contact Adora is offering right now. 

Of course it has to end, she knows that. She can feel it approaching as soon as Adora raises her head. She gets jostled when Adora sighs but she stubbornly refuses to move until Adora definitivily calls an end to this. 

She can't tell if she fabricates how miserable Adora sounds when she mutters, “I should probably go…”

_‘Or you could stay for once.’_

She pulls away, quick but softly. She knows her ears are almost flat to her head purely from her own thought, but she doesn’t care. 

As horrible as her memories of the portal and her corrupted body are, and as much as she was trying to _hurt_ , she can’t help but think back to it right now. 

_“It’s always the same with you Adora. ‘Oh I_ have _to do this. Oh, we_ have _to do that.’”_

She regrets everything about it. But she can’t tell herself it was a lie. It just turns out she’s not the only one that applies to. (She’s been around Glimmer and Bow enough to know that.) At least Adora’s not a hypocrite. 

She _should_ go but she doesn’t _have_ to. And it doesn’t seem like Adora _wants_ to.

She turns her head sharply, finding Adora shocked still and tense under the intensity of her glare. It’s an unhidden challenge.

“Do you _want_ to go?”

***Adora***

There’s too much in her glowing eyes for this to be what it appears on the surface. She may not always know when Catra’s playing games, but this isn’t a game. This is...something else.

It’s Catra clutching her hand desperately in a fake world, _“Stay with me, okay?”_

It’s Catra full of building rage as reality starts crumbling around them, _“Why can’t you just stay?”_

This is bigger than this moment and she can only be grateful that she realises it.

“No.”

_‘I never do.’_

She was wrong to think the intensity would melt away, that she might finally give Catra some peace in this matter, that she might actually believe her. Catra leans closer, close enough that she can feel her breath on her face, still daring, still challenging.

“Then don’t.” 

It reads: _‘Prove it.’_

It would be so easy, she realises, to eradicate the space between them. Easier than anything. There’s a burn in her blood that demands to be satisfied with Catra’s touch, not dissimilar to the magic she’s lost. But she just can’t, not when she wants so desperately to do something monumentally reckless and _selfish_ above all else. Something that, unfortunately, would prove all too strongly how much she means it. 

It takes swallowing and staring at where Catra still allows her to hold her hand for her to say, “I’ll stay.”

 _“I never wanted to leave you.”_ Why couldn’t Catra just believe her? Why can she still not?

The intensity finally softens, Catra moving back enough so that she can finally _breathe_ again. There’s another moment of silence before the quietest purr she’s ever heard spills into the air. Her neck hurts with how quickly she snaps her head back up. Catra looks like she's trying not to laugh at her with the thin line she's made of her mouth.

She knows if Catra wanted to she’d be able to push it down - but this means she _doesn’t_ want to. Catra’s _happy_ and evidently comfortable enough to let that show. She feels drunk.

She blames her false inebriation for why she reaches out. It’s as stupid and reckless as she had feared, entirely too soft when she rests her hand on the side of Catra’s neck. The purr she’d been dying to feel stutters out with Catra’s shock. She takes her hand back like she’s been burned. 

“Sorry, I just - I wanted to feel it…I missed it.”

The last part may have been a little too much, but it's out there now. Catra still looks shocked but its nature changes. Her ears soften from their alert position.

“Alright.”

She doesn’t move, practically scared to, as Catra lies down, tugging her hand once before letting go. Catra’s looking at her like the way she does when she’s expecting her to figure something out. At least this time it’s easy. She eases herself down onto the bed slowly, unable to escape the way Catra’s eyes shine in the dark. 

The side of Catra’s mouth twitches up when she finally settles. “Take your hair out.” She knows her face is an obvious question. “You get my purr if you take your hair down.”

She doesn’t know _why_ , but it’s such a small thing she doesn’t care _at all_. Not when she’ll be able to drink in the physical proof of Catra’s contentment. The snap of the band on her wrist is a crack in the silence.

“Happy?”

Catra smirks before grabbing her hand and laying it on her pulse. The immediate vibration that starts under her palm takes her breath away. She knows her mouth is hanging half open but she can’t help it.

Catra’s just as soft as she always was (she's not at all surprised that she remembers the exact feeling), softer if anything now that she’s eating properly. It just makes it harder to keep her hand still. She traces fingertips through thin fur, the arcs getting bigger when Catra doesn’t protest. She always was good at pushing the boundary with her. It’s only when the whole of her hand starts making a repeating journey along her neck that Catra fully opens her eyes again.

“Are you...petting me?”

“Um, I guess? Is that...okay?”

Catra nods hesitantly, “Right now, yes.”

It’s nice to have that, finally a concrete rule when it comes to how she can act around her. Finally a line. She’s never expected to be able to _pet_ Catra whenever she wants, fuck, she’s never even considered it, but even the _possibility_ of sometimes is short-circuiting her brain.

Her hand hasn’t started moving again since Catra spoke, the reason she realises this is because Catra nudges her jaw up. Catra’s not going to ask her outright, she knows that much. But she will tell her if she wants her to stop. And while she could just so easily remain like this with her forever, with Catra rumbling her comfort against her skin, she clearly wants her to move.

So she does, beginning the same route through her fur with a little more fragility. She smiles as Catra sinks into the bed, curling her claws into the fabric. She wonders if Catra could fall asleep like this. She wants that to be true - in a shockingly powerful way for such an innocent thing. 

_‘I’m staying. I get to fall asleep with her again tonight.’_

It makes her so happy she could cry. 

She risks going higher, knowing full well how easily Catra can bite her from here (which she will certainly do if she goes too far, Catra can’t have changed _that_ much.) Catra just stares, eyes half-lidded, at a spot on the bed and so painfully not at her. But she _doesn’t stop her_ ; not when her fingers run through the thicket of fur on her jaw the way she’s never dared to do before, not when her hair ends up under her hand. Catra is completely still, the only movement being the inconsistent rise and fall of her chest as she breathes and purrs. 

“You sure this is okay?” Because she has to ask. 

Catra stares at a different part of the bed when she nods, lip between her teeth. It clicks then that Catra’s ashamed of this; of _liking_ this. She’s not going to say anything else, it’ll just make Catra feel raw, she might even run from it. She can only hope that Catra will ease eventually but really there’s only a half-chance of that happening.

She stokes through her hair properly, in absolute awe of being able to. She really does like her hair like this, the way it sticks up and curls round her face, wild in a different way than her mane was. She likes how it feels under her hands, how it’ll fall in front of Catra’s eyes when it gets longer, how she’ll scoff when she suggests she tie it back. She drags over it again, but when her fingers press against the base of Catra’s ear, she shivers. 

She stills her hand, “You cold?”

Catra blinks a few times before she mumbles, “A little.”

She pulls her hand back to reach down for the covers at their feet. There’s enough for one each so there’s no reason for her to curl up with Catra under the same sheets. She knows she has no right to be disappointed.

She doesn’t return her hand because Catra doesn’t offer. ‘Right now’ might’ve already ended. There’s nothing in Catra’s eyes - which are finally looking at her again - that gives an answer either way.

Silence stretches for a while before it’s broken by a heavy inhale. “Tell me about Etheria.”

“You live here too y’know.” 

But she supposes a lot has changed since Catra’s last seen it. Post-war Etheria can be unrecognisable at times.

“Idiot. I mean...all the places I went to I was trying to destroy. I want to know what they were like before, or after, I guess.”

“Um okay, you ever heard of Mystacor?”

***Catra***

“No. Or if I have I don’t remember.”

“I know you haven’t been there but figured it’s as good as any place to start before the…yeah.”

Catra kicks her lightly under the covers, which she knows just ‘means go’ on, but it’s just so like they used to so it throws her for a second.

“It looks like here actually, white and purple, really bright absolutely everywhere. It’s the home of pretty much all sorcerers, I don’t really know what they do there, but when I went with Glimmer and Bow it was meant to relax me or whatever -“

“- Did they figure out you can’t relax to save your life?”

“Yeah, pretty quickly. I kind of got it. Not the way they wanted me to. But…” The way Adora’s eyes lock onto the ceiling says more than she does right now.

“Why do I feel like there’s a horrible memory for you there then?”

Adora scoffs, which she takes to mean she is _correct_. “Well, Micah is from there, Castaspella too, and, um...Shadow Weaver.”

“Oh. Good start then.” She keeps it lighter than she’s feeling. 

It doesn’t stop Adora from tensing. “Yeah I didn’t think that through… She um, she followed me there. Tried to get me to come back early on.”

She feels her tail arc across the mattress behind her. “I didn’t know that. Well I knew she was trying to get you back...”

_‘Because so was I.’_

“I was so terrified she’d do something like that again, come find me, steal my memories - which I didn’t even know she could _do_!” Adora deflates a little, but she’s got a small smile and she’s looking right at her again, so she figures it must be alright in some respects. “Guess I should thank you.”

“For what?”

_‘Are you forgetting that I walked away from you? Bound and scared and alone with her?’_

It was petty vengeance for all the times it had happened to her, sure. Fuelled by anger and a need for Adora to _understand_ , like most things back then. It’s not a fucking excuse. Adora has nothing to be thankful for.

“You broke her connection to the Black Garnet. That was a _good thing_ you did.”

_‘For selfish reasons. Just like everything fucking else.’_

“Sure.” She keeps it devoid of emotion.

At least Adora reads her right this time. “Okay, okay I’ll - next place. Plumeria’s nice - Perfuma’s Kingdom. No castle, just trees and flowers and huts and tents. The people are...a lot. Pacifists, optimists. You’d probably hate them.”

She doesn’t bother to fight her tiny smile. “Probably.”

* * *

“Kind of feel like I should be at the bottom of the bed,” she yawns.

She doesn’t know what the time is, too tired to even guess from the moon’s positions in the sky. But she trained herself early on in her life not to fall asleep next to Adora, always awake enough to make it to where she was meant to be. A habit she hasn’t found time or reason to break apparently. 

Adora scrubs her hand across her face, clearly fighting the sleep they’re both feeling. “It’s your bed.”

“You saying you would’ve curled up at my feet if it’d been the other way round?”

Adora sighs, closing her eyes, “Catra, is it okay if I sleep here?”

_‘Despite my better judgement, I don’t want you anywhere else.’_

“Yeah dummy, I think I’ll survive. Now sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to get into whether or not Shadow Weaver has mind-wiped Adora before because thinking about it makes me sad.  
> I did add in an allusion to Adora's future interest in cartography, as well as the fact that no one should let this girl name things. I mean Swift Winds was named 'Horsey' for 3 episodes so.
> 
> They held hands, Catra got pets, Catra had a lesbian shutdown, they got to cuddle kind of, they stayed up all night talking, they almost kissed. All with a coat of sad yearning. I said it would be gay. (Also while Adora's staring at their hands Catra's looking at her lips.)


	19. It's Different With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First part I was listening to Watch You Sleep (yes second thing I've written listening to it, shut up I'm a lesbian.)  
> Second part I'm saying has "Yeah Adora, concentrate" vibes.

***Adora***

Her sleep is dreamless. The kind of sleep she’s not familiar with. And she’s torn from it by a very sudden knock on the door. She’s lurching her body up, half-yelling and throwing her arms forward before she’s even awake.

There’s something - someone - holding her wrists when she actually gets a grip on reality. Of all things for her to wake up to, Catra's face - Catra's eyes - might very well be the last thing for her to expect. But it is what's happening. She can process the firm but soft way she’s touching her later. Right now all that lives in her head is Catra’s freckles and her fang hooked over her lip. For one exceedingly strange second she thinks she’s back in the Fright Zone, or that this is a dream. Then she remembers yesterday.

There’s a wave of love in her chest she can’t stop. 

Catra lets her go once she’s sure she’s not going to accidently hit her anymore, which is...fair, considering the first seventeen years of their lives. “Good to know you still do that.”

Catra’s grinning when she says it, and it is a welcome relief from the usual blatant concern she gets from Bow and Glimmer. (She still doesn’t think it’s unreasonable of her to have weapons in her bed but she has gotten rid of them now the war has ended. And that’s only because her excuse is invalid now.)

She knows she fails to look annoyed when she shoves her and mutters, “Shut up. Do you know who that is?”

“No,” Catra’s tail whips when she stands, the only evidence of her discomfort. 

She’s not sure why she feels it necessary to pull in closer to the armchair - she is not _hiding_ , she is just mostly out of sight of the door. She reasons that it’s because she’s not wearing her jacket and that her hair is a wreck, and all those years of having to be awake and presentable for morning inspections is kicking in because of Catra. She is _not_ embarrassed about essentially being caught in Catra’s bed. That’s ridiculous.

The door opens but it’s not anyone she knows, just a faceless guard holding something. “Your breakfast.”

_‘Is it really that late already?’_

Catra takes it. “Thank you.” And closes the door again. 

She’s floored. She shouldn’t be...but she is. _Catra_ saying a genuine, no-sign-of-sarcasm, _‘thank you’_ to a Brightmoon guard. Or anyone for that matter really. She must’ve done it before, Adora just apparently has never witnessed it. 

She knows she stares once the door closes, once Catra’s walking back over with the smallest of smiles balanced on her lips. It’s absolutely _stupid_ how in love she feels right now. She woke up with Catra again; she feels kind of invincible. And she _kind of_ wants to tackle Catra back to the bed and never let her leave, drown in her eyes and her smiles and her laughs and softness. And she _kind of_ hates herself for even thinking it. 

Catra lays the tray on the bedding before climbing back on herself and tossing an apple in her direction. “Eat.”

She turns it over in her hands before putting it down. “I can eat whenever I want, I’m not going to take your food.”

It’s not meant to be anything more than words. A denial of an offer. So she’s really not sure what she’s done to illicit the snap in Catra’s voice, “Fine.” Catra tears at what meat is on her plate, not looking at her. 

“...Wait, are you mad at me?”

Catra’s ear flicks as she swallows and then scoffs, “I’m not mad.”

“You’re not _happy_.”

She very nearly backs off when Catra growls, but she knows her well enough to recognise that it is a grumpy growl rather than a vicious one. She doesn’t have to wait all that long before; 

“You’ve never been the one to not have food.”

_‘Oh.’_

She tries to think back to how many times she's found Catra in a corner of the Fright Zone after being banned from receiving food for whatever reason. She realises for the first time that she lost count before they reached double digits. It was just a fact of life at the time, one she never really thought about beyond the act itself. 

It makes sense that Catra feels it imbalanced. She’s completely right in that regard. She _likes_ providing for Catra, always has. She knows, in theory, that the sentiment runs just as true the other way; Catra’s just not had the opportunities to do so. And she still doesn’t, not from in here.

“ _Oh._ ”

“Dork.”

She takes the apple back, watching as Catra’s ears perk up when she takes a bite.

It doesn’t seem to matter how long she stays, she can’t get to grips with spending a morning with Catra. Yes, she does it every day she possibly can, but it doesn’t _feel_ like this. This is...she doesn’t even know. She might be tempted to say timeless; this feels like a dream in which only the two of them reside. She can pretend she never woke up this morning if she wants. 

Everything she ought to do is sitting on the sidelines like smoke on the horizon. She can ignore it. She _does_ ignore it. The peace she feels just existing with Catra again acts as a shield. 

When she’s done, Catra moves the tray off the bed, lies down on it instead, arms behind her head. Adora watches the breath in her chest move in and out slowly like the tide, sometimes audible, sometimes not. Just...easy. 

That’s what this is; easy. Catra lying beside her, eyes closed, freckles dotted across her nose. She can’t take her eyes off her. She’s glad Catra can’t see her, she must look as lovestruck as she feels, there’s too much inside her for it not to show. 

There’s a lot of things she wants to do, none of which she can. (None of which she would even allow into her head a couple months ago.) She wants to hold her hand, she wants to kiss the corner of her mouth where it curls in the suggestion of a smile, she wants to - she wants to lie down with her again. That she could do. But she shouldn’t. Not feeling the way she does. Not wanting the way she does. It would feel like a lie. 

So she doesn’t move, not for a long time. Not until Catra brings one of her legs in and opens her eyes. “You okay?”

She’s just relieved she wasn’t still looking at her, gaze having trailed out the window. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I just...guess I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you want to do?”

_‘Nothing you would want me to.’_

“Um…”

She bites at her lip before shutting off all reasonable thinking and just _acting_. She turns and lies down, careful to keep contact to a minimum, and rests her head on Catra’s stomach. Her back to the mattress, her feet just touching the floor on the opposite side of the bed. 

She keeps her eyes fixed to the ceiling when she asks, all too quietly, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah Princess, it’s okay.”

She can’t stop the way she sighs and sinks into the mattress (and body) under her. There’s the briefest tremble of a purr under her head, snuffed out so quickly she could easily be convinced she imagined it. Which Catra would undoubtedly try to do should she say anything. She stays quiet out of what feels like necessity, trying not to smile too wide. 

“What do you have to do today?” Catra asks after a while of comfortable silence. 

She turns her head to the side and sees Catra watching her, not a sharp edge in sight. “Read over some itineraries then pack. Slow day.”

She loves the way she can feel Catra’s inaudible snort when blue-yellow eyes return to their fake sky. “Not like it’s gonna take you all that long, just two copies of the same fucking outfit.”

She shoves weakly at Catra’s hip, saying, “Hey,” but there’s no heat in it at all. She is technically correct. Still, she can’t help but take the opportunity to tease her, “Sounds like you just wanna spend more time with me.”

“Oh you wish.”

She has to leave eventually, she always does. Time spins like thread until another knock on the door sounds through the room. In between meaningless conversations she figures she must’ve fallen asleep, there’s no other explanation for how foggy her eyes feel. 

Catra doesn’t rush to the door, lets her sit up on her own before standing. She takes her lunch from the guard with another small thank you. 

Adora runs her hands through her hair, wincing at all the knots she finds. “I should go.”

“I know.”

She throws her hair up as best she can, but there’s really no way to salvage it until she gets back to her own room and finds a hairbrush. She feels around under the bed for her jacket and boots as Catra sits again and starts eating. (It reminds her how little she’s actually eaten today and moves ‘find food’ to the top of her priorities list.)

Just as her belt clicks into place Catra says, “You told me to think about people I want to see.”

She doesn’t let herself get too excited, lest Catra retreat. She starts pulling on her boots without even looking at her. “You figure it out?”

“Scorpia. Can you...ask her, or whatever?” 

She turns at the obvious hesitance to see Catra’s ears and eyes down. She quickly finishes with her shoes, stands and comes round to Catra’s side. Catra turns her body towards her but keeps her gaze downcast. Gods she wants to hold her so badly. 

“Yeah I can do that. I know she wants to.”

That gets Catra to look up. She realises that she actually has an excuse right now to do as she wants; she’s leaving after all. She holds her hands out, any doubts she had about this evaporating when Catra takes them. Then she’s wrapping her arms around Catra’s shoulders, resisting how badly she wants to crush her into her body. Catra’s hands rest carefully on her back but there’s not even a hint of tension in her body. 

She keeps it short - she feels like she has to. But it doesn’t stop her from doing something stupid. When she goes to take her arms back she lets the blunt edges of her nails drag along the underside of Catra’s jaw in what she hopes to appear as an accident. (And it kind of is but…) 

Catra coughs once in response, but she can hear the rumble underneath it. (Only because she was desperately listening for it.) She knows better than to address it out loud. She has always suspected Catra liked that sort of thing, last night just confirmed it. She knows she’s risking a lot by doing this but...but nothing. She’s just being - well she’s being selfish. She makes sure the sudden churn in her stomach doesn’t show. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

  
They’re meant to leave as soon as they’ve had lunch to be able to arrive in Salineas around nightfall. Only problem is she’s had lunch, alone, and Bow and Glimmer are nowhere to be found. The kitchen staff say they left with their food a while ago. Neither in their rooms nor the dining room, not even the garden where they sometimes have impromptu picnics. 

Standing in bright daylight, she comes to a conclusion. Not a particularly smart one, not even a wholly reasonable one. She’s still riding the high of spending the night with Catra a day later - she can’t really imagine ever getting off of it. She has a horrible feeling four days away from Catra will do it though. So what she manages to come up with is about as biased as it could be, made of pure wanting.

She finds herself outside of Catra’s door for the second time that day embarrassingly quickly. She’s just looking for an excuse to see her again before they go. She knows that. It took only one little whisper of knowing that Bow said he wanted to see Catra again before they leave, and then barely a footnote of _‘if Bow is there he’ll probably know where Glimmer is’_ for her to end up back here.

She’s not proud of herself right now. At least she remembers to knock. The door opens and the last thing she expects is for Glimmer to be the one behind it. 

She all but startles, “Glimmer?”

“Yeah?”

Before she can say anything else though, she hears a snort muffled by distance so clearly Catra and then a call from the other side of the room, “Adora get your ass in here.”

Glimmer teleports to the table, sitting back down in front of her food, leaving Adora standing in the doorway still in a mild state of shock. It eases now she has a full view of the room, seeing Bow in the other chair. (If she’d seen Glimmer eating lunch with Catra _alone_ she might’ve just passed out.)

She closes the door with a click, feeling exposed despite the fact the only one really looking at her is Catra. She’s sitting on her bed where it now resides next to the table. (Why she didn’t bring over the chair, she’s not sure but Catra is just like that, so…)

Catra leans back on her hands when she gets closer and her tail curls in greeting. It doesn’t really match the wicked way she’s grinning, entirely smug, and the way she drawls, “ _Hey Adora_. Back so soon?”

She forces herself not to react (it is _difficult_.) She gets closer and satiates her sudden need to just touch her by ruffling her hair, “Shut it you, I was just looking for these two.” 

She grins herself when Catra hisses and swipes at her hand, intentionally slow enough not to hit. Catra recovers quickly enough, “And why did you think they’d be here?”

She was hoping Catra would let that go. She ought to have known better than that. “Uh, I - I thought Bow might be here and he’d know where Glimmer was. Doesn’t matter, I was right wasn't I?”

“I think it matters Princess.”

She’s about to tackle her when Bow and Glimmer both interrupt, with varying degrees of confusion, “ _‘Princess’_?”

“Long story.” 

Which really is just Catra speak for _‘I don’t want to tell you.’_ Or at least it is now. Catra at thirteen would’ve already given them a fresh set of scratches each. Knowing that shouldn’t make her smile. 

It takes five seconds of silence before Catra sighs a definitely overdramatised sigh and pats the space on the bed next to her with her tail. “You just gonna stand there looking like a moron?”

She rolls her eyes, but she is grateful for it. She resolves, as she takes the offered seat, to not touch Catra unless she initiates it - she just has a feeling it will be a little too obvious otherwise. It’s not really anyone’s fault that she touches Catra differently from anyone else, it’s just a fact. She’s rougher and softer in a way it took her a long time to realise. 

Catra doesn’t reach out, which is fine. She turns to the people at the table and they carry on with whatever they were talking about. She’s content to just listen. 

Catra talks occasionally, and she pays attention (her mind doesn’t really give her any other option.) Or at least she does until Catra brings her elbow up to rest on her shoulder. She has to put all her energy into _not_ wrapping an arm around Catra’s waist and keeping her looks to a few seconds each. She thinks she's doing a good job of not being obvious - or at least not obvious enough to warrant comment from anyone.

“...Isn’t that right Adora?”

She’s concentrating on it so much in fact, she’s completely taken off guard. Catra turns her head towards her and she’s unfairly caught in the shine in her eyes. 

“Huh?”

And Catra - like the asshole she is - laughs. (Glimmer laughs too but she's a little distracted.) She can’t be mad, not really, not when she sounds like that. But there are appearances to keep up. She pushes Catra off her with more force than she meant. A yelp turns quickly into a snicker, matching ones coming from her other two friends. It’s nice. 

Catra turns onto her back, brushing hair out of her face with a huff and a hidden smile only she knows isn’t a scowl, “Bitch.”

“Asshole. I’m just trying to figure out how long we can stay here before we have to go.” 

She’s not but who really needs to know that?

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Glimmer says, not even bothering to hide her amusement. 

She feels the flick of Catra’s tail under her nose, drawing her attention back (always back) to her. “Good.”

She can’t stop smiling - she knows both Glimmer and Bow notice. It’s the first time all these people she loves so dearly are all in the same room, happy and talking. She thinks she’s allowed to be as close to euphoric as she’s ever come. 

And if her hand manages to end up behind Catra’s back, and if her tail moves over the surface of it, only the two of them need to know about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fully on board with the 'Adora can't truly relax unless she's with Catra' thing. It's different when you can use a woman's stomach as a pillow.  
> Adora: Catra might hate me for doing this.  
> Catra: *has literallly accepted every fucking thing she tries*  
> (Also Catra really wanted to run her hands through Adora's hair when she was lying on her.)
> 
> {This didn’t really fit the vibe but I couldn’t stop thinking about it so you can pretend it’s like an Adora imaged scenario or whatever}  
> “Back so soon? You miss me?”
> 
> Catra stands on her bed. It’s strange seeing her from this angle but she’s not complaining about it. She’s definitely not complaining when Catra drapes her arms loosely around her shoulders. 
> 
> She blames the unexpected intimacy ( _in front of people_ ) for the way she stutters out an unconvincing, “What, no!”
> 
> “I think you’re lying.” Just because she is doesn’t mean she’s ready for Catra to call her out on it, no matter how obvious. “I think you were looking for any excuse to come and see me.”
> 
> She honestly can’t tell if Catra’s joking or not but it’s too close to the truth (it _is_ the truth) for her to laugh this off in any way that’ll save her. Instead she blushes like the idiot she is.


	20. Scorpia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. It's here. And I really fucking struggled I've not really written Scorpia before.

***Catra***

She doesn’t expect the next few days to be easy or fun. They’re not. She has her chess set that she plays against herself, her few books that she tries her best to pace as she rereads them. She exercises as much as she can since Adora left the staffs for that purpose, and spends more time than she ever has in the shower (which is still not _much_ but…)

It’s just worse than it should be because she’s waiting. She doesn’t even know if Scorpia said yes to coming. She would more than understand her saying no, but she would just like a fucking answer of _some_ kind to stop her wanting to crawl up the walls. (Which she considers doing in far too much seriousness.) But the only person who can give her that answer is gone so really she has _nothing else to do_.

Two days go by like this. She more than deserves to stew in her regrets - she knows that without a shadow of a doubt. If penance were easy, she wouldn’t think she was doing it right.

She hears footsteps, not unusual - people pass by her room occasionally. She doesn’t know the layout of the castle, but from what she’s gathered, there’s not much this way. She is technically in a guest room, which is still infinitely funny to her in a twisted way. 

She does not startle when the new steps outside her door halt. She stops her pacing, that is all, her ears straining for anything else. There’s a click and unfamiliar scuffling on the other side of the door as someone tries to open it. She’s grateful for Brightmoon not having automatic doors right now. 

The door finally opens, and if she weren’t terrified, she knows she would smile. She never did learn to knock.

“Hi Wildcat.”

“Scorpia,” it comes out as a broken sigh. She shouldn’t be feeling this sting in her eyes already - from her just being here - but she’s come to realise this is just what happens when people come back. As rare as it is, she knows that. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

Scorpia steps fully into the room, closing the door behind her a lot more easily than she opened it. Scorpia looks healthier than she's ever seen her; which considering the Horde is not a hard bar to pass as she's come to learn time again. She looks softer, a feat with all her sharp edges Catra's always thought out of place. But that's about where the differences end; she still appears to hold herself the same, trying to make herself as small as possible despite her towering frame. 

“People tried to talk me out of it.”

“I don’t blame them.” It is the better thing for her to do after all. 

“Perfuma and Entrapta said I should, though so...”

From what little she knows, Perfuma makes sense. Entrapta though - that she’s surprised about. She can’t even remember if anyone here knows why Hordak died, or if they all think her a murderer. She can’t imagine anyone but Adora correcting Entrapta’s thinking - if she even knows that _she_ is the reason why he’s gone at all.

She resists the way her tail wants to curl around her leg. “How is she?”

“Entrapta? She’s good, upset about Hordak, but she’s dealing with it like...well like _Entrapta_. She’s quieter, thrown herself into her science now portals are working, we have Alliance meetings in her lab sometimes, everyone takes turns being her lab partner.”

Even when she’s not trying to hurt she still does. Or maybe this is just the scars she’s left behind, with the only medicine being time. She doesn’t know how to feel about that. She’s spent so long thinking the best thing she can do is let everyone move on without her, she’s never thought that she would be the reason for someone being held back. Didn't really think she was important enough to.

She crosses her arms over her front. “How many of them actually know what she’s on about?”

“Um…”

It’s a slow, small smile that starts on her face, but it is undeniably real. “I’ll take that as none of them.”

“Bow does. I can pick up enough when my powers aren’t shutting off electronics from ‘power overload’ - I think that’s what she calls it. She gets really excited about it though. Um, Adora can keep up with enough of it too, Glimmer doesn’t have the patience. Perfuma will sit in there too sometimes if I’m there. Entrapta likes her plants.”

She can’t look at her when she asks, “How is that girlfriend of yours?” She’s a coward. 

She can see enough out of the corner of her eye to know Scorpia’s blushing. At least she’s right then. 

“You know about that?” 

She’s missed being around hybrids - the click as Scorpia’s tail moves is reassuring in the strangest way. 

“Bow heavily eluded to it.”

Scorpia shifts, obviously trying not to smile too much. “It’s - it’s good with her. I don’t really know what I’m doing but there are these really nice Princesses - Netossa and Spinnerella - they’re helping us. Well me mostly, Perfuma’s been with other people before...”

It doesn’t _hurt_ exactly, to talk about this. But it’s still got her fighting off the way her fur wants to bristle; it’s guilt and it’s discomfort and it’s all the ways Catra failed her. 

“Do you..want to sit down?” She can’t really offer much else. 

“Oh, uh, sure. Where…?”

She gestures with her head for her to take the armchair, still next to the table. The silence isn’t comfortable - not even bearable - the way she’s managed to get it to be with Bow and Adora (even Glimmer on rare occasion.) It doesn’t get better, not as Scorpia actually sits, not as she walks round the table. And it is as soon as she takes her own seat that she realises she really ought to have even attempted to plan what she should say. She was too busy trying not to hope too much that she didn’t even fucking think of what to do if she _did_ come. She _hates_ not having a plan.

She manages to both wish Adora were here to reassure her, and be glad she’s not here to see how she will inevitably mess this up. She knows deep down she’ll be proud of her for simply trying but...that really doesn’t feel like enough right now. And besides, she’s not fucking doing this for Adora. She's doing this for the woman across from her that she's treated like shit pretty much from the moment she met her.

She needs to be honest. Brutally honest. That’s really the only way she knows how to handle Scorpia and her disarmingly earnest _everything_. But she’ll be kinder. No pushing her away. (Not that she has a reason to do that now.) No bringing her down to give herself control. Which, knowing her, will be easier said than done. 

“I don’t know where to start with this…”

“We don’t - we don’t have to do this _right_ now, if you don’t want -”

“- No, no we do. It’s long overdue anyway. It’s the reason you’re here.” She curls a leg up on the chair, hugging it with one arm, staring at where she picks at the table’s woodwork with the other. 

“It’s not the only reason.”

_‘It should be.’_

She still wonders how Scorpia survived the Fright Zone being as good as she is. How she didn’t get corrupted by it. She used to wonder the same about Adora, but she knows her better now - knows Adora bears the marks in other ways. Scorpia must as well. Maybe one day she’ll know her well enough to figure it out. 

She drums her claws on the table, screwing up her face before releasing it and turning to the woman waiting across from her. “Fuck it. I’m sorry. I am so, _so_ fucking sorry for absolutely everything.”

“Really?”

Her eyes burn. Of course Scorpia thinks that low of her - why would she think anything else?

She takes a deep breath, swallowing around everything stuck in her throat before the words burst out; “Gods yes! Fuck, my first couple weeks here I felt so guilty I couldn’t even think about you - or Entrapta - without feeling sick.” She feels that nausea now too, alongside the dizzying pace of her heart. “You didn’t deserve the way I treated you. Not at all. I know that - I _knew_ that back then too, fuck I knew everything I was doing was wrong I just…”

“You were hurting. I know you didn’t mean it.”

That bitter laugh is back, she’d almost forgotten it lived in her. “Of all excuses I’ve ever tried to make for myself that one is the worst. So don’t make it for me.”

Scorpia curls in on herself before she has a chance to stop it. “Sorry…”

“ _Don’t apologise!_ Gods, I am trying to tell you you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

That might’ve been the wrong thing to say. If anything Scorpia just curls further. She looks like a kicked puppy. 

“I - I’m,” she cuts herself off with a sigh, drags her hands roughly through her hair. “Y’know I thought I’d already done the hardest apology.”

 _‘Still wrong.’_ She’s so fucking stupid. 

She knows she has to keep speaking, she can practically see the reflexive 'sorry' sitting on Scorpia's chest. 

“Adora she - she hurt me, and I hurt her, but she’s always _known_ me. She clung onto the person she grew up with. You only knew me at my worst. And you still cared so…” She doesn’t know why she tries to explain it. 

“I don’t want to make this any harder than it needs to be for you. I know the past month has been a lot of everyone - I know this has been a lot for _you_.”

Her tail hits her leg and her claws drum another tune into the wood. “That’s one way of putting it I suppose.”

Her life _has_ been feeling all or nothing ever since she’s been in this room. That’s not really anyone’s fault at least. She’s cut off, but she’s meant to be. This is a _punishment_ for fucks sake.

Scorpia uncurls, apparently realising she had done it at all. The guilt is gone from her face, thankfully. Catra lets her think in silence, but it doesn’t take all that long. 

“I do forgive you. I know I don’t have to, but I was never very good at being mad at you. And I don’t want to be.”

Scorpia’s fondness, so similar to before, makes her tongue feel bitter when she next manages to speak;

“It’s not about being mad at me,” though she really doesn’t understand how she isn’t, but Scorpia always was better than her, “It’s about...I don’t know. You _should_ be angry. I really don’t think you could ever hate someone, but if you could; it should be me. I don’t even know how you can stand to be in the same room as me! I don’t - I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

_‘I don’t deserve anyone’s.’_

Her head is heavy on her shoulders as she looks cowardly at the floor. Scorpia starts something but she holds a hand up to cut her off. “Adora’s managed to convince me that I can earn it. So please just, let me earn it. Gods it’s the least I can do after everything that happened and - and _didn’t_ happen between us.”

She thinks this must be the first time she’s even acknowledged the painful truth out loud. She was so wrapped up in own heartache that she gave just as good as she got. And just as with everything else, she’s so much _worse_. Adora didn’t know. She did. She saw a devoted woman and didn’t even have the fucking decency to tell her no; she let her cling and hope instead of severing it like she should’ve. Fuck, she even used it sometimes.

“It’s not your fault you didn’t feel the same.”

“No. But I was - I was so fucking disgusting about it. I’m selfish. I know that, I always have been. But I’ve never been as selfish as I was with you.”

“You weren’t. You weren’t _nice_ , but you weren’t selfish.”

Wrong. So immensely, painfully wrong.

It’s so incredibly hard not to cry. She doesn’t know why she won’t let herself. It’s not like Scorpia will judge, she’ll probably comfort her; maybe that’s why. At least with Adora she feels her tears are earned, she may be ashamed of them but the way Adora doesn’t take her shit, often pushing back just as hard. It makes it bearable. 

Scorpia well, she should’ve been prepared for her softness again. She should’ve had a better defense in place, should’ve had one at all. She feels raw and exposed like this, but not _seen_. Not the way Adora makes her feel.

She hates this reaching only for Scorpia to side step her. There’s frustration, becoming sharper and sharper as her eyes sting. She knows what’s coming before it happens. Unfortunately she knows herself well enough now. It’s vulnerability turned frustration turned rage. So tragically familiar. 

She may recognise it, but it is a far cry from stopping it. It breaks out. That part that makes her hurt herself hand in hand with the part that hurts others. 

“I wasn’t fucking selfish? You’re telling me I didn’t break your heart? Didn’t make you cry? Question your worth? Make you feel like you never had any in the first place? Because _I know_ I fucking did okay? Don't bullshit me and don't fucking _lie_ to me!” 

She doesn’t realise she’s standing till the words are out. Her claws are blades at her sides, having gouged new marks into the table she didn’t hear over her own bitter shouting. There’s tears sitting on her waterline she furiously scrubs at as she falls back into her chair. She traces the trenches in the wood, surprised that otherwise the furniture is still intact. 

She can’t bring herself to look at Scorpia, but she knows she’s not moving. Probably shocked - maybe even scared - still. She lets her body take over since it will probably show her remorse better than anything else; ears about as low as they can go, tail winding around her own leg.

“I _knew_ , okay. I cared, I did, just…you’re right, it hurt. Everything hurt so much all the time and I took it out on you because I knew you’d let me. Pretty shitty explanation I know, but it's the only one I have.”

It’s not the first time she’s known herself to be a monster, she doubts it’s the last. She doesn’t know how young she was the first time she heard it, doesn’t even know if it was Shadow Weaver, though of course she assumes so. Just a talk, dark figure berating her as she, a young scared child, hissed and growled at her superior.

"I didn't mean to lie to you. Well not this time, I did, before I left, about the recordings. They were in Emily and I didn't want her destroyed."

It doesn't even mean anything to her now. The lie doesn't mean anything - it was in defense of another. She'd be hypocrite on top of everything else if she got angry at a lie meant to protect.

"I don't blame you for leaving. I never know when to quit. Or I just don't, even when I know I should." She sighs again, turning her eyes towards the ceiling as she always does, "I should've stayed with you in the Crimson Waste."

Scorpia tries to deny her, "You wouldn't have been happy there with me."

"I would've been _happier_ than I ended up being. I should've at least tried."

"You never did tell me what changed..."

That one she at least has a better answer for, "Shadow Weaver. Picked Adora over me, again. It just...I couldn't take it anymore." 

That's really as simple as she can make it. It hurts to say out loud, a half-snarl in her own ears, even as she thinks herself a petty, destructive idiot. 

"A lot of the things you did..." 

She can practically taste the hesitation and it makes her tail lash as she forces her eyes back down. "What about them?"

She's never really seen Scorpia _steel_ herself for anything, it's strange to watch. There's a flicker of lightning between the spikes on her shoulders that she thinks she's imagining until she _remembers_. There's suddenly fear bubbling inside her as well, an unwilling reaction to a childhood of memories she's trying to force down.

She doesn't have to try all that long because as soon as she hears the next words everything just kind of...stops.

"Adora. You did them because of her, right? I didn't...make that up as a reason for...all of it, did I?"

And just like that there's tears again that she _has_ to breathe through, there's no other option. "No. No you didn't."

“Some of the things you said to me and did to me, it - it was because I’m not her, wasn’t it?”

 _'She just wants answers, she_ deserves _answers. Just for once in your life admit it.'_

It’s that of all things that makes tears finally spill over, just the one, but it’s more than she wants. She makes sure it doesn’t have time to stain her fur darker. “Yeah it’s, fuck, it’s because you weren’t her.”

It’s as heartbreaking to admit out loud as she always thought it would be. Her voice is as cracked as she always thought it would be.

“Thank you, for telling me... I didn’t think you’d ever admit it.” 

She finally manages to look at her again, there’s _almost_ a smile, made purely of relief she herself doesn’t feel. She won’t let herself label it as proud, because it can’t be. She hasn’t earned that. 

“Yeah I didn’t either.”

“It’s nice, having a reason and it not just being about me.”

“Still shit though.”

“It’s...it sucks, yeah.”

She is surprised about the little snort that gets out of her, Scorpia never one for swearing. It’s the little hesitance where she clearly thought about it that got her. 

“Does Adora know?” And when she doesn’t answer, “Do you think she feels the same?”

“Of course not.”

Adora’s not ashamed to love like she is. She doesn’t hide fondness and caring behind sarcasm and rough touches. If Adora felt the same way she’d have figured it out a long time ago.

“I don’t really know where we go from here…”

“Well I don’t have many things to do in here so literally any stories from outside will be exciting for me.”

“Oh, um okay, well this one time Entrapta…”

* * *

“Everything alright in there?”

She doesn’t recognise the voice, she tries to keep her startle at the sudden, rather loud, sound to a minimum. (And probably fails considering the way her tail is behaving.) 

“Everything’s great!” Scorpia calls back, no signs of being caught off-guard at all.

“I think that’s your cue to go.”

“Yeah it is, I told her to come get me when it was time for our evening meditation.” 

She seems, understandably, sheepish to admit that, but not embarrassed. It has to be Perfuma based on that though. Catra honestly doesn’t know what ‘meditation’ is, and if anyone’s ever said anything about it, she doesn’t remember. Sounds Princess-y though. 

Scorpia lets her get the door, following close behind. She turns the handle and crosses her arms as she lets it swing further open. 

“Hello Catra.”

She knows she’s fought this Princess, she knows what she can do. But she can’t recall it right now as she smiles at her, small and polite and delicate. ( _‘Right, flowers, figures.’_ ) She has a horrible feeling it’ll come back to her later though. 

She nods as non-condescendingly as she can, “Princess Perfuma.”

The Princess turns to Scorpia just slightly, smile growing when she looks at her. It’s bittersweet for Catra in so many ways. 

“How’d it go?”

She glances at Scorpia out the corner of her eye as she shrugs. She is not the one to answer this.

“I already said it was great. We actually talked. Like a lot.”

The distinct, pure glee in the words makes her feel is a type of relief she can count on one hand the amount of times she’s experienced it.

“Well that’s good!” 

There’s so much positivity in three fucking words that it actually puts her on edge. Adora did warn her. And she may be getting better, but after Scorpia, the less of this aggressive optimism the better.

She steps out of the way, “Scorpia, I guess I’ll, uh, see you some other time…”

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’m - I’m proud of you.”

She doesn’t really know how else to respond but with, “Thanks.”

Neither of the other two women seem to mind though. Scorpia crosses the barrier when something occurs to her.

“Hey, wait.” She already regrets saying anything when Scorpia looks back, obviously confused. This just means she actually has to _say_ it out loud. 

_'Do it for her.'_

She grits her teeth and forces out, “I don’t really like people touching me… _but_ , I know that you do so…” 

She kind of hates herself for the awkward way she half-raises her hands. Then she’s wrapped up in Scorpia’s arms before she can blink. It’s just as crushing as she remembers. 

“Oh, there it is, okay.”

It _might_ be more bearable when she actually has some warning beforehand. Apparently she’s not ready to voice that though. Scorpia sets her down gentler than she's ever done (maybe made easier by the fact she's not desperately squirming out of the hold.)

“Bye, Wildcat.”

There’s a genuine smile, small and careful, on her face. It doesn’t fade once the door closes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adora's not even this chapter but by god is Catra gonna fucking talk about her.
> 
> My take on Scorpia is that the Horde made her unable to say no - which is why her leaving is such a big moment for her. She says yes to everything to keep herself safe, forgives too easily to keep the few friends she does have.  
> Spinetossa be out here helping _all_ the wlw. And I don't know I just wanted to throw in that Perfuma's had one or two past relationships since I headcannon her older. (Plus with Plumeria's community-centered culture I thought it would make sense.) Also, of course, she's a trans woman.


	21. Home: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deal is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look at that more Don't Go references. 
> 
> Context that applies to all my canon-verse stories: Catra and Adora only ever slept in the same bed alongside each other a few times when they were kids before they got caught. Every other time since then was when Catra had a really bad day (Adora never one to allow herself comfort when she was hurting.)
> 
> Content Warning: mentions of blood, implied child abuse

***Adora***

She calls Scorpia before they leave Salineas, she knows her and Catra talked. And she knows it went well...in the end. But she also knows there’s been a tide of anxiety she herself has been feeling regarding it for the last few days.

She wants Catra to get her friend(s) back, but she also wants to be there to help her through it. Even if Catra would probably shoo her out when the time actually came. At this point all she wants is to hear that Catra’s okay from her own mouth. 

She _thought_ she managed to say it in passing yesterday, but Bow’s look had been so _knowing_ that it put her on edge for the rest of the day, even after his suggestion: _“Maybe you should give her her own trackerpad?”_

She has been berating herself since; it’s so simple.

They didn’t teleport to Mermista's kingdom but they do teleport back, since the returning team is smaller. (Not that Glimmer _can’t_ teleport all of them, it was just that she couldn’t teleport all of them _and_ all the supplies.)

The clock in the dining hall reads far later than she thought by the time the three of them have eaten. Even still, she has to battle her longing, and reason to herself that she shouldn't go see Catra. Logic wins out easily - Catra’s probably asleep already, and she has no reason good enough beyond _‘I missed you,’_ to wake her up. 

If she tried, she could convince herself, _‘I was worried,’_ is a good enough reason. And it wouldn’t even be a lie. But she holds herself back from doing so (it really would be uncomfortably easy to do.) She resigns herself to her bedroom without any protest as Gimmer and Bow walk her there. (She is _not_ dead on her feet, she is just not as stable as she ought to be.)

At least this time she manages to stay awake long enough to brush her teeth, change, and even remember to take out her hair. Her curtains remain open though when she emerges from her bathroom, and her lights would remain on if she'd turned them on in the first place.

She focuses on the flow of water she can hear - a stand in for the incessant hum of the Fright Zone she learnt early on. It eases her into a calm quickly enough, pure exhaustion actually putting her under.

* * *

It’s golden in her dream. Warm with a moonrise. She’s high up, far above everything else, and all she knows is Catra next to her. She won’t remember the words they speak when she wakes up, they don't even make sense as she dreams them. It’s just nice; peaceful. 

It’s the Fright Zone, it has to be; she’s never been high up like this with Catra anywhere else. She can’t. Catra’s still trapped here. And just because she knows why doesn’t mean she likes it. They’ve been trapped their whole lives in one way or another, Catra shouldn’t have to endure that anymore. 

She tells her that. Dream her anyway. 

_“Adora I do deserve that. You know what I’ve done.”_

_“I know, I know,”_ she says back, _“You hurt me.”_

There’s a distant slow drip of liquid getting louder, she looks at Catra’s hands where they lay limp in her lap. She doesn’t know whether the drips are from her tears as they trickle down her face, or the blood that covers her hands like gloves as droplets hit the ground far below. Catra looks at her, most of her faded from the light. What’s left is a child, tangled mane, shining wide eyes and everything.

_“Adora I’m scared.”_

_“Don’t be scared. We’re safe up here, remember?”_

_“Liar.”_

The light fades, the crumbling grains in the sky breaking as shadows cracked with red crawl towards them too fast. The world crumbles in a blaze of crimson. She doesn’t know if the screams she hears are Catra’s or hers. 

She still reaches blindly for her as she’s thrust back into a nicer reality, and as always, she finds empty space. Her throat stings with her broken breathing, she coughs when breathing exercises don’t soothe it. The open curtains mean she can see into her room as she sits idly trying to get a fucking grip. She is _tired_ of this fourth night in a row. It’s not her longest streak of nightmares, but she has been having multiple a night. It’s more exhausting than staying awake. (An option she has explored, but Bow and Glimmer got too worried.)

At least she doesn’t shake when she stands. She turns the bathroom light as low as she can and drinks, not able to meet her own eyes in the mirror. Her face will be little more than shadow anyway. She doubts she’ll be able to rid herself of them tonight.

The night-time wind in her room makes her shiver even as her heart continues it’s rapid-fire beat. She pulls the robe she took back from Mystacor out of her chest of drawers since it’s kind of meant to be slept in anyway, and bundles herself in it. It helps. It's soft.

_'Soft like her.'_

It's not like her.

The scrape of the drawer as it closes is jarring in its echoes. Something makes her stare a burning hole into the top of the dresser, but she doesn’t know what. Probably the same thing that’s preventing her from letting go of the handles, that's making her think like this. It might very well be loneliness, or even just longing. It doesn’t really matter, she just wants Catra here. As always. That night together ruined her - she should’ve been stronger, should’ve been able to foresee what it would do to her. 

She doesn’t have Catra here, but she has something. She hasn’t thought about it all that much, burying it along with most things to do with Catra when she’s not with her, but she hasn’t forgotten that it’s there. The creak of the bottom drawer as she pulls it open makes her wince; as if someone could hear it, as if anyone knows what she is doing. No one does. No one ever will. 

Maybe, _maybe_ she can be this weak, alone in her room late at night. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She pulls Catra’s mask out from its hiding place. She tries to think what Catra would say if she knew. She thinks she’d be surprised more than anything, but she wouldn’t be angry; would probably just call her a sentimental idiot and forget about it. That’s reassuring in a strange way.

And thinking about her like this just makes her ache more. She can’t go back to her bed like this. It’ll just feel empty. She feels empty just standing here, holding the only thing of Catra’s she has outside of her cell.

She holds it to her forehead, pretends, oh so pathetically, that she can feel Catra like this. As much as she tries she can’t forget; it’s far from the first nightmare she’s had even this week about a young, scared Catra she couldn’t protect. And every night it left her begging to just see her to ease the guilt. 

_‘Catra’s alive, she’s fighting, she’s forgiving you.’_

_‘Catra’s here, she’s a few minutes away.’_

_‘She’s not going to be upset with you for having a nightmare.’_

_‘She’s not going to be angry with you for worrying about her.’_

_‘You don’t have to stay. You can just check and leave.’_

She’s not sure how long she stands there unmoving like that, but enough for her feet to go half-numb from the cold stone floor. There’s light indents from the mask on her palms as she sets it down. She wasn’t wrong when she thought before that she could convince herself to go to Catra if she drenched the intention with lies; that it’s about going to see if _Catra_ is okay. It’s rather easy after all that to replace the mask to its hiding place, throw her hair up and pull on her boots. 

There’s no guards in the hallways which she’s glad of, despite how all her years of training and sentry duty mean she doesn’t like it. It makes it easier to convince herself of non-selfish intentions, keeps a dream-like quality to what she’s seeing. Catra’s never been all that far from her, prison being one of the castle's spare rooms, but the three minute walk always feels longer than that. 

She’s been told she’s impulsive by many people. It’s things like rushing into battle without a plan and doing _this_ that makes her agree. Four consecutive nights of bad sleep and genuine worry is fuelling her right now, which is probably why she hesitates so minimally before opening the door to Catra’s room .

She’s a fool for thinking that if she’s quiet enough Catra won’t ever know - she’s never been quiet enough before. Catra’s silhouette jerks with a loud hiss in the limited light, all she can see of her is the shadow of her hair and the contrasting glow of her eyes. 

“Adora?” 

It’s so soft the way she says it, shocked but her voice is too heavy with sleep to be any semblance of sharp. With the dream still fresh in her head, she can’t help but think it sounds like when they were kids. It hurts in a way she’s not prepared for. 

“Yeah, it’s - it’s me.”

_“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.”_

Covers shift as Catra gets up, the comforting silence of her steps on the floor as she comes closer to the light. Adora watches her pupils thin, the low, calm wave of her tail as it shows her confusion. In direct contrast to that, Adora’s own fists are tight at her sides, she can’t help it. 

Catra’s figure gets painted in colour when she gets close enough. It’s not what she expects. She expects to see black and maroon not light gray. Catra’s in leggings and a tank top, with her hair all sleep-mussed looking _soft_ in every meaning of the word. She should decidedly not be rendered half-useless by seeing Catra in sleep clothes of all things - it is night, Catra was sleeping, of course she is. She _can't help it._

“Adora what -”

“- Can I stay here tonight?” she blurts out before she loses her nerve. So much for pretending she was going to leave.

Catra, to her credit, doesn’t even flinch. She just looks her up and down - understandable considering what she’s wearing and the time. And yet Catra manages to both soften and solidify in the next second. 

“What happened?”

She wouldn’t need a reason in the Before, they would just do it. She misses that right now. But Catra is justified in wanting an answer so she has to give her one. She doesn’t consider lying, Catra would just get angry at her for that. But she doesn’t want to admit this weakness, not even to her. 

She can handle it the other way round. She’s _used to_ this the other way round; Catra crawling into her bed after a nightmare. (If she wasn’t at the end of her bed already.) She _owes_ Catra this, in some respect. She is working on making this fair after all, in small, hopefully discreet ways.

“Just...nightmares, about you. I keep having them and I just - I guess I wanted to make sure you were okay. But you are so I can - I can leave if you want.” 

She’s already on her toes and ready to run if necessary. Catra can tell (it’s not as if she’s hiding her nervous energy at all) and reaches forward for her hand. It relaxes instantly in her reassuring grip, uncurling to hold on.

“You can stay.”

It feels like she finally settles back into her own skin. The ghost of trembling leaving completely as Catra tugs her deeper into the room. She closes the door behind her when she follows easily.

It’s darker than last time with the curtains drawn, almost pitch black once the door closes. She stumbles a little, having no clear picture of the room since the furniture changes place so often. Which of course Catra sees if her little snicker means anything. She’s silently grateful for Catra with her near-perfect night vision still holding onto her, leading her through the blackness. 

Catra pulls her down after a couple steps onto what must be the bed from the feeling of it. “I can take the chair, it's fine.”

Catra walks around to the other side and she turns, trying to follow the shine of her eyes. She feels the dip as Catra sits on the opposite side, almost jumps as Catra’s tail brushes across her hand where it sits atop the bedding. 

“Adora don’t be an idiot. The bed’s huge.”

The returned softness of it stuns her silent. She feels the remaining tension trickle out of her body. She is...at ease. She wouldn’t think she’d be; with Catra close and gentle. She blames the night, as she always seems to do. It is Catra's fault she feels like this, but it's something she could never _blame_ her for.

She takes her shoes off, robe too, glad Catra doesn’t say anything. Catra’s already lying down when she gets under the blankets herself. There’s a careful and purposeful space between them she knows she can’t do anything about. Even if she feels that every worry that’s been living in her head the past few days could vanish by just feeling her. Catra’s got to bridge it - it’s the rule she made for herself. 

She attempts to sleep again when she sees Catra’s eyes close. She’s not tossing and turning like the nights previous, she’s comfortable and not _scared_ to fall asleep here. But she can’t. She remains stubbornly awake. Even Catra and her softness and her warmth that she wants to drown herself in not being able to drag her under - or maybe that’s why. She is _aware_ of how close Catra is in a way she wasn’t the other night. Catra asked for her to be there, she didn’t this time. 

_‘If Catra didn’t want me here, she would’ve turned me away.’_

She would’ve been sure of that a couple of years ago, but not anymore. This Catra is more selfless than that. She would’ve never thought a side effect of that would be her questioning Catra’s sincerity, but here she is, in her bed with forced breaths almost convinced Catra’s only letting her be here because she knows better than anyone how awful her nightmares can get. 

All that tension is back in her shoulders as she lies there, hands curled into fists again. She screws her eyes closed as if it’s a barrier to her own worries. 

“Nightmares still bothering you?”

She doesn’t let herself jump at the unexpected sound, forces her face to smooth out now that she knows Catra is watching her again. 

“A little…” because really, what else is she going to say?

Catra hums a recognition and it makes her feel safe enough to open her eyes again. She can’t see anything but Catra’s eyes in the dark, pupils as wide as she’s ever seen them. It’s strange, but known; they’ve done this before, lifetimes ago. 

She watches as Catra seems to trace her face before she says suddenly, “Come here?”

She doesn’t know what shocks her more; the words themselves or that Catra’s asking.

“It’s just us. There’s no one here,” Catra sounds...nervous, but like she’s smiling. She doesn’t really understand.

She doesn’t even know why she’s questioning this. Catra wants her closer; she wouldn’t be offering that if she didn’t want her here at all. And she wants _to be closer_ to Catra, she always does - gods, it’s why she’s here in the first place. So she moves, shuffles towards her till she can feel the radiating heat of Catra’s skin next to hers. 

“We’re not going to get told off for doing this anymore,” Catra whispers like it’s a secret. 

They're close enough that she can feel her breath on her face, meaning it takes her a moment for what Catra actually said to process, then, “You’re right.” 

She gets why Catra sounds like she’s smiling, because she is too. She experiences momentary euphoria in knowing that Catra wanted to be like this at night, just as she did. That it was merely the punishment that prevented the both of them from having this every night in the Before. If she could purr, she knows she would. 

But apparently Catra’s going to go further with this, “You’re nightmares are about not keeping me safe?”

The smile promptly dies. 

_'Failing you.'_

“Yeah…” she mumbles, unsure whether she wants Catra to remember that. 

Or maybe she does given the way Catra’s tail curls around her ankle. She forces down the stutter of her own breath because with Catra so close, there isn’t a chance she won’t notice.

“Okay then…” Catra shifts downwards slightly on the bed while she remains absolutely still. Whatever Catra’s going to do she won’t be prepared for, which just means she doesn’t stop the small gasp that makes its way out of her throat when Catra tucks her head in against her chest. 

“You want to do this?” 

And just like that she feels more vulnerable than she has in a long time. It was too obvious, too nervous, too longing.

Catra mumbles into her chest, either ignoring or unaware of how pathetically weak her words were, “Wouldn’t do this if I didn’t, dummy.” 

She nearly chokes. “Oh.”

She expects Catra to laugh but there’s no sound, not until; “Put your arm around me.”

She doesn’t hesitate this time, curling Catra in tighter against her. The pounding of her heart spikes before it slows, driven higher by Catra so close, eased by the warmth she was craving burning in her arms. And just as Catra starts relaxing into the sheets, the tension in her body melting away, Adora runs her fingers in gentle arcs across her shoulder blades. She thinks she’s getting better at telling when Catra’s trying to stop something, or maybe it’s the fact she can feel the beginning of a purr in her own chest before Catra gets ahold of it. 

“Think you can protect me like this?”

Gods she loves the feeling of Catra speaking into her skin. Gods she loves _Catra_ for just doing this; for somehow knowing she needs this. 

“Yes.”

That seems to be all Catra needs before the last of her walls come down, quiet thunder rumbling through the both of them, loud and calming in a way Adora’s never known anything else to be. 

“I missed you, Catra.”

She doesn’t mean to say it anywhere other than the inside of her head. But it’s okay, she can blame it on a mix of her nightmare, the four days they’ve spent apart, even her own tiredness if needed. But it’s also not needed at all;

“I missed you too.”

She has to strain to hear it over her purring but it’s undeniably what she said. There’s a burning in her chest she’s come to recognise, one caused by the love she feels; one she shoves as far down as she can lest it take ahold of her. She doesn’t let herself fall asleep till it fades to peaceful embers.

* * *

In the morning she wakes before the guard comes. She blinks her eyes open to Catra still tucked under her chin, the fur on her back under her hand. Catra’s thrown an arm over her, curled her legs up more but other than that, there’s no difference from how they fell asleep.

She expects to feel an outrageous amount of joy, and she does, but she also doesn’t; it’s calmer than that. This is just...what they were always meant to have. It doesn’t exactly feel new. It doesn’t exactly feel old either. It just is. They just are. 

Catra purrs as soon as she stirs, low and steady and it almost lulls her back to unconsciousness. They don’t stay in the embrace after that, her excuse to run from her own feelings being that she doesn’t want to be caught walking back to her room in her sleep clothes - too many questions. Catra agrees to her reasoning without questioning, but she still assures her she’ll come back with breakfast.

“Thanks for last night, I, uh - it helped. A lot,” she admits carefully after swallowing the last of her breakfast. 

“You have another nightmare? Come to me. Just knock first.”

It’s what she wants. In every way she can think, she wants that. It’s what she’s wanted since the night she brought her here. But she can’t say it. Even if Catra’s offering, it’s selfish; there’s no way to return the favour. It’ll feel like taking advantage of her, though she doesn’t understand why. 

“You don’t have to do that.”

She probably looks more obvious in how she feels than she sounds given the way Catra kicks her gently under the table. “I want to. I don’t miss much about the Fright Zone but...the barracks, sleeping with other people around, I miss that.”

_‘I’ve missed sleeping near you.’_

“Didn’t you get a Force Captain’s room?” 

Catra takes the deflection though, “Yeah. Not that I slept much. And when I did it was awful so...guess that hasn’t changed much.”

It’s something about the way she says it that makes her remember what Bow said. Or maybe it’s her less rational self beginning to spin fickle reasons - excuses - for her to let herself spend nights with Catra again. 

“Catra I’m going to get you something.” It comes out too sharp if the twitch of one of Catra’s ears means what she thinks it does.

“Okay?” Not upset, just curious, maybe a little amused. 

“Yeah, I’ll - I’ll be back in a minute.”

She’s at the door again within fifteen minutes, holding a new issue trackerpad. It was easier to get than she thought actually, what with so many of them being made to talk to relief teams across the planet.

Catra’s dressed now though, curled up in her armchair with a book Adora’s pretty sure she’s read twice already. (She makes the mental note to get her more books.) It’s a sight she’s slowly getting accustomed to; Catra in some vein of domestic. It probably only seems that way because of how they grew up but there’s not much she can do about that. 

Catra folds the corner of the page and sets it down, coming over and taking the trackerpad out of her hands. “I have no idea how to work this.”

“Gives you something to do, doesn’t it?”

Catra’s hand migrates to her hip, “So you don’t know either then.”

“I know what I need to know,” Catra rolls her eyes, “Messages and calls mostly. Which is why I’m giving it to you. I thought about it in Salineas, but this way you can ask me - or anyone - to come here. Or not I guess. I just figured you’d want more control over what happens to you here.”

That gets her to soften at least. “Thanks Adora.”

“Really, after so long, it’s the least I can do. Now I’ve got to go but message me when you figure it out.”

She hugs Catra without thinking, but it’s received and returned without delay. This is their usual goodbye now, which all things considered, shouldn’t make her as happy as it does.

She doesn’t mean to spend so much of the day waiting for Catra to message her, but it’s just where her mind goes when it’s not consumed by building plans for coastal towns. She’s just unfortunate enough to have Bow with her when that happens.

All it reads is _: Figured it out :_ but it has her smiling anyway.

“You give it to her?”

“Yeah.” 

It is not even the first knowing look he’s given her today.

* * *

Not a week has gone by and she has spent two more nights in Catra’s bed already. She doesn’t know what to make of it. 

They don’t usually fall asleep facing each other, for which she’s grateful for. It’s easier to relax when glowing eyes - able to see in the dark what she can’t - aren’t on her. It’s easier to convince herself that what they’re doing is allowed. But it’s also harder to endure in pathetic, lovesick ways. Harder to stop herself from intertwining their hands when Catra held her from behind the second time; harder to stop herself from pressing kisses into Catra’s hair the third. 

And she feels guilty. She wanted to make this fair, it’s what lets her do this. But it’s not fair to Catra for her to have done this twice already. A late night - early morning - message saying she can’t sleep and Catra responds with _: I’m awake :_ almost instantly. Welcomes her into her bed with gentle questions and clawless hands. Catra hasn’t asked once. 

She had tried to reason to herself at first that maybe she has more frequent nightmares than Catra does. Except that is a blatant and known lie. The last time she went she _knows_ Catra had a nightmare too - the bristling of her fur that didn’t settle until she touched her told her as much. She reached out. Catra didn’t. It stung.

She _understands_ Catra’s reservations. Of course she does, she’s living them too. It’s _Catra_ , she gets it. But it makes her feel weak, and despite everything Bow and Glimmer, even Perfuma have said, she can't stand it.

Something wakes her up. Not a nightmare, not someone else, just a small sound and a flare of white light from behind her eyelids. It makes her groan as it tears her from sleep, she considers ignoring it, but she doesn’t. The light’s too harsh for it to be daylight, so it’s origin has to be the only piece of tech she has in her room.

She sits up, eyes adjusting to the darkness without the artificial light that woke her. She lights the lamp at the side of her bed and finds her trackerpad on the covers next to her. She doesn’t _remember_ falling asleep with it there, but if the last thing she did was say goodnight to Catra then it makes sense. 

_: Had a nightmare :_

She doesn’t move for a couple seconds, taking a moment to realise what that means, before typing out an immediate reply _: On my way :_

She’s already pulling on her shoes before it’s finished sending. Apparently she was successful in convincing Catra that it is _okay_ to ask her for this, that she _wants_ her to, that last night. There’s selfish relief before the cold wave of reality hits; Catra’s had a nightmare, she is _scared_ , enough so that she is asking for her to come. 

She doesn’t _run_ exactly, but only because she knows the sound of her boots will be too loud - Catra’s senses are even more sensitive when she’s stressed. It’s easier to open the door than any other time, she finds. She uses the momentary light to see where the bed is, locating it in the furthest place from the door as it could be. She can’t see where she’s going at all, walking in a straight line but ending up with a handful of curtains. She pulls it aside just enough to see Catra still on her bed, curled up and not looking at her. 

“Catra?” she whispers, trusting that Catra will hear it. She does given the way her ears flick back to meet her. 

Catra’s curled as close to the wall as she can be and it’s then that she realises this is about as close to a dark corner as she can get here. The bed is shaking when she sits down, she tucks the trackerpad she finds under the bed. Catra hisses quietly at the proximity but does nothing else - she doesn’t have to. Adora knows better than to touch her when she’s like this. 

“Hey, it’s just me, remember? It’s just me,” she whispers as low and steady as she can. It gets glowing eyes to look at her. Catra’s arms stay around herself but the shaking subsides a little. “You’re okay. You’re safe. There's no one else here but us.”

Catra closes her eyes to breathe, her tail unwinds from it’s vice grip on her ankle. There’s less fear when she opens them again, like Catra’s managed to convince herself of something. Catra loosens her hold with one hand, leaving it up-turned in the space between, and she doesn’t hesitate in the slightest to take it. She doesn’t mind the strength in the grip, cherishes it in fact.

“She’s not here.”

Her heart fractures with knowing exactly who she means - for there’s really only one person it could be. Adora may have more figures lurking in her dreams now, but none of them as powerful as Shadow Weaver, none of them are born from years of endless expectations she couldn’t meet. And no one knows more pain from her hand than Catra.

“She’s not here, she can’t hurt you anymore.”

There might be punctures in her hand at this point, but she doesn’t care. 

“She’s still out there. She could.” 

She can tell it hurts for her to admit it, but that just means she loves her more for it. “I won’t let that happen, no one here will.”

Catra’s knees finally come down, and she takes her hand back. She’s expecting for Catra to lie down, tug on her hand for her to follow and for them to go to sleep and not talk about this again. She’s not expecting Catra’s arms around her waist dragging her as close as possible, for her to bury her head in the crook of her neck. She lets her, would never deny her what she knows brings her comfort. She feels Catra’s claws through the fabric of her shirt, feels her bared teeth against her neck and under different circumstances she might be feeling very differently about this. But right now all it shows is Catra’s distress that she yearns to eradicate.

She strokes her hands down Catra’s arms repeatedly, traces her stripes, elated when it makes Catra stop baring her teeth (which leaves Catra’s lips against her neck instead but that is the last of her worries right now.) She draws Catra’s legs over her lap, feels a sigh wash over her skin when Catra realises what she’s doing, then allows her hands to find a new place on Catra’s shoulder blades. 

She traces scars absentmindedly in the moonlight, finding them by memory and touch. She clutches Catra tighter whenever claws snag; anything to make her feel better. She would let Catra carve fresh scars into every inch of her body if it meant she found solace in her arms. 

It never lasts, she knows that. She still has to remind herself that she will have this, Catra in her arms, again every time. 

Catra pulls back, taking her hands (and claws) with her. Adora’s hands slip along the fur of her shoulders as an excuse to prolong the contact. Not that it’s necessary with how they’ll most likely end up, but now that Catra’s letting her she just...can’t let go. She _needs_ her under her hands. She can’t see much in the shadow of moonlight, uses it as a shield for her actions when she runs thumbs under Catra’s eyes to see if she was crying. She wasn’t. And yet she lets herself leave a hand there, cradling the side of her face. 

She doesn’t even truly realise that she’s done it till she gets caught up in Catra’s shocked eyes again. She’s about to apologise for it, feels like she’s crossed a line, already pulling her hand back when Catra follows. She leans _into_ it.

Adora’s scared to speak, fully aware of how fragile this is right now. Catra’s still here, allowing herself to be comforted. But she wants to run. She can read the shame in her body at giving in, but she’s _not moving away_. If she had less control of her tongue - less understanding, less fear - she’d tell her she’s proud of her. 

“You came,” Catra mumbles into the skin of her hand, unable to look at her.

That fracturing feeling in her chest sings a reprise. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times she comes back, Catra’s always going to doubt her in some respect. She doesn’t know how to fix it. She should know how to fix it by now. She can only hope that hearing it _enough_ might finally convince her one day. 

“Of course I did. I -” _I love you._ It’s the first time she almost slips up with it. She resists the tears stinging her eyes, laughs pitifully instead, “Promised, didn’t I?”

She was hoping for at least a sad attempt of a smile on Catra’s part. It’s not what she gets. She doesn’t know what it is about what she said that causes Catra to shove at her shoulders hard enough she falls to the bed. She bites her own tongue when Catra crawls towards her, stopping when she’s on all fours above her, just staring for a moment. (There is a lot about tonight she’s going to be obsessing over when she’s alone again.) But it is only for a moment before a miniature horror spreads over her face and Catra drops to her chest, curling there, every muscle tense. 

“I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t understand why Catra sounds scared, and she knows better than to ask. “It’s okay, everything is okay Catra. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you here.”

She doesn’t know if that’s what Catra wanted to hear but she hopes so. Catra turns her head, and she worries her suppressed laugh at the ticklish feeling of Catra’s ear on bare skin will upset her. It doesn’t, Catra relaxes minimally into her instead. Everything is okay - _she_ ought to believe it at least.

She brings her arms up and around her, unused to but content with the feeling of Catra on her chest. She strokes through Catra’s hair as gentle as she can, relieved in every sense of the word when Catra starts a drowsy stuttering purr under her hands. 

She can worry about her near-slip later, right now, this is all she needs. To hold Catra, to be held in return. To be needed by her again, to feel her purr rattling in her bones turn slowly to quiet snores. It’s something she’s wanted for a long time, realising it only when she finally had Catra _happily_ curled in her arms asleep for the first time since they were kids. 

She has been so good at pushing down this want, so good at ignoring it when daylight sits on the horizon. But it is oh so hard to do when she has it; when she actually _has_ Catra like this. And if she falls more in love every time she drifts off with Catra’s creaking purr vibrating in her skin, then...that’s just what happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit this came out gayer than I intended, the girls really took this away from me I'll be honest. That whole last section wasn't even in this to begin with (otherwise this would've gone up sooner) and then suddenly it's all 'first almost love confession' and 'Catra almost kisses her and then panics because she thinks Adora knew what she was thinking'.
> 
> Glimmer and Bow don't actually know about their sleeping arrangements because Adora gets up so early anyway. Also if they ask she'll just say she was with Catra which isn't a _lie_ but...
> 
> Next chapter will be out tomorrow or the day after because it's a short one ;)
> 
> (Also Catra folds book pages because she's chaotic :P )


	22. We Don't Get An Epilogue Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning of the end.

***Catra***

Catra’s used to being woken up by other things now, guards or Adora mostly, but more often than not she wakes to silence. It doesn’t bring her paranoia anymore, but she still misses a constant something in the background. There’s a gentle flow of water far below her window, muffled by the spell, that she can only hear by sitting next to the barrier. It gets louder after rain, and she enjoys it more than she’ll ever admit.

She’s lived her whole life by routine, it’s only natural for her to adapt one to her new, less stressful existence. She’ll change out of the sleep clothes Bow gave her, go to the bathroom, then open the curtains. Usually she’ll do stretches or practice chess moves till Adora comes (if she’s not here already.)

Today she gets stopped at the curtains, a faint sound of something outside meaning she forces her eyes to adjust to the light quicker than is comfortable. There’s few times she’s ever not trusted her own eyes. Right now is one of those times. She has to be imagining the daggers in the sky on the horizon. 

But she blinks and stares and they stay, accumulate in number as they descend from space. There’s a dread she’d almost forgotten dripping heavy in her gut as white spires lower slowly to the planet's surface.  
  
  


***Adora***

She doesn’t know what she feels when she draws back her curtains to see a corrupted sky. There’s shock, definitely - confusion even, as it takes her wasted seconds remembering just exactly what - exactly _who_ \- this is. There’s anger at herself while she dresses, a disguise; a shield, for her fear and guilt. She got too comfortable. How could she have let herself get _used_ to a life without war? She’s lived her whole life in a one, she should know better than to think this supposed end was infallible. They knew Hordak was trying to find his way back to Horde Prime, they should’ve prepared for this. Why didn’t she even _consider_ that this might happen? She’s meant to be _smarter_ than this!

She doesn’t know where her feet are taking her at first, the panic bubbling inside disrupting her thoughts like the sound of gunshots. Only the first of the day's moons has risen, there is no sound that she can hear to even indicate that something is wrong. She has no reason to be unsettled by the pure absence of people she passes in the halls. She is nonetheless. 

Without windows she can pretend she imagined it - that she’ll find Glimmer and she’ll tell her it’s an illusion, show her the clear, star-filled sky she’s gotten used to. 

She’s not collected in how she bangs on Glimmer’s door. She doesn’t care. 

She hears noises that don’t land properly in her ears from within the room, and then the shimmer of Glimmer’s magic on the other side of the door. She waits only until Glimmer’s face is in view before;

“Glimmer it’s Prime!”

There’s alarm fighting it’s way through Glimmer’s sleep-haze, “What?”

A sound stemming from deeper in the room causes the two of them to turn, she can’t even bring herself to be surprised that Bow is at the window, still in his sleep clothes, pulling the curtains aside. There’s already too much in her head, too much blood pumping in her chest for this to matter. 

“Adora’s right, he’s here.”

Why couldn’t she have been wrong? Why couldn’t this have been a trick of her own anxious mind? A self-made punishment for relaxing into the peaceable aftermath of a war she was never meant to survive. Her mind is already conjuring false casualties, wondering how many of them will come to pass. She hasn’t missed war. And this is, without a shadow of a doubt, a war. 

A war she’ll have to win. Without She-Ra. 

She grits her teeth and breathes, straightens her back the way she was taught at four years old. She can feel herself slip back into the role of a soldier as easily as one might pick up a pen. 

_‘Shadow Weaver would be so proud.’_ It’s more cold bitter mocking than lie. 

“Glimmer, what are your orders?”

Gone is the woman in front of her soft from sleep, happy with her best friend - the man she loves. She can see the change, the tension creeping into the way Glimmer holds herself. Leadership like a heavy cloak being put on her shoulders; she knows the feeling. 

She can see a change in Bow too, hands twitching as he turns from the sky, eyes shifting like he’s looking for his arrows. 

“Bow, contact the Alliance. Get everyone here as soon as possible. Station every guard we have, send some to protect the lower towns. Adora, we’re going to see Entrapta.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did always say Prime was going to show up.
> 
> So, I have been scattering information in past chapters as set ups for what I need to get through the rest of this story, _however_ if there's anything I've missed, I am not against going back and editing it in. This will not be following season 5 exactly (they won't be going to space for starters) and some of it, I'm guessing, won't be all that plausible but that is because this focuses so much on Catra and Adora and their relationship rather than anything else. 
> 
> Sidenote: if you want to think Glow is together already past this point go for it.  
> My [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/tillykitty10) because I don't think I've put a link to it in this fic


	23. Saving Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I don’t want to leave. What don’t you understand about that?”_  
>  _“Don’t you get it? I am_ never _going to go with you!”_

***Catra***

It’s been a couple hours at most and the warships seem to have stopped accumulating. She’s not ruling out that there might be more on the way - there’s probably even more that she can’t see hanging in the void beyond the atmosphere. She can see two spires from her window, certain there’s more all over the planet like nodes for a network. (She has Entrapta to thank for that thought.) As soon as they land, there’s movement she’s just able to pick up - small machines spilling into the sky like a swarm.

She doesn’t know what else to do but stand and stare, hands holding onto her arms the way she always does. It’s not like she can do anything from her prison, it is not even as if she is safe in here since it seems anyone else can come through. There’s anxiety weaving its way through her veins that means that standing here is all she’ll do. Anything else would feel like cowardice. And if there's anything she hopes to have gotten better at, it's not running away.

There’s footsteps in the hallway she doesn’t truly hear until the door clicks open, mesmerised by the enemy outside.

She turns and there’s Adora coming towards her, and then there’s Adora right in front of her, hair frayed and forearm pressed to her throat. Enough to pin, not enough to cut off air. Small mercies, she supposes. Adora would probably end up with a set of scratches on her sides otherwise (followed by immediate regret.) 

“Horde Prime is here, he’s brought his whole galactic army. They’re planting spires into the ground and surrounding the planet. What do you know?”

She can feel the shake in her arm, reads it as fury, and shoves Adora off her. Her prolonged and growing anxiety prevents her from realising that that might not help, as well as stopping her fully noticing the stumble in Adora’s step from her shaking legs. 

“Nothing! All _I_ know is what I can see out my fucking window. Hordak didn’t tell me anything. Ask Entrapta.”

Her tail is lashing where it’s not trapped between her body and the wall. Adora doesn’t pin her again. She pulls her lip back down over her teeth, lets her ears go back as an apology for shouting.

Adora swallows. “We already did.”

It’s then that she finally notices the tremors in the frame in front of her, still not able to pick apart from her own stress what that means. “Then why are you here?”

“I, um…” Adora mumbles as she turns her gaze to burn a hole in the floor. 

“You think I had something to do with this? I mean I did but not _this_... You still don’t trust me do you?”

She doesn’t know how far she believes that as she says it. She might even just be lashing out; aiming to hurt so she's not the only one, she just doesn’t know. Whatever her reasons, Adora crumbles before her, what she mistook for rage morphing to blatant _fear_. Gods she can _smell_ it now that her senses are catching up to her. Adora is _scared_ and she was stupid to think otherwise. 

This isn’t about them. She's made that mistake before.

But Adora doesn’t know her thoughts, rushes forwards to reassure her. A hand comes up to hold the side of her face and it reads like pleading without Adora speaking. If Catra _were_ going to say anything, it would’ve dissolved on her tongue - Adora doesn’t _do_ things like this when there’s daylight. She fights leaning into it and _wins_.

“What? No, no, of course I do. Catra I promise I do just… If you don’t know anything then I - I don’t know. I just…” Adora sighs shakily, hand dropping away from her face. Catra can see her wince as she does so. “We’re in over our heads. Anything will be useful.”

“I can’t help you with that. He’s powerful, he’s got an army spanning galaxies, that’s all I know.” 

Adora being this...she dares to say intimate, with her right now means it comes out sharper than she meant. Adora’s head falls into her hands with another sigh, fingers tugging at her scalp, and her claws flex with the need to ease her. 

“Hey, come on,” she’s slow with touching her, brings her claws in as she guides Adora into the armchair a few steps away from her. She strokes down one of her arms how Adora normally does for her and crouches in front of her knees. 

“Hey, I’m sorry okay? If I knew anything I’d tell you, you know that right?” And when Adora doesn’t move, “Stop tugging.” She pulls gently at Adora’s wrists to stop her pulling her own hair out. 

She’s thankful Adora’s not crying when she finds blue eyes again, she wouldn’t know what to do then, this she might be able to handle. She doesn’t let go of her, just holds her hands instead of wrists in a way she never could in the Horde. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing Catra. I don’t even know where to start without She-Ra.”

She wonders if Adora’s told anyone else about this in the weeks since they first discussed it. Knowing her, she won’t have, which...she doesn’t know what to do with. Happy to help, scared of saying something wrong. Surely Bow, even Glimmer, will help better than she can. They’ve been doing this feelings crap their whole lives.

_‘But they don’t know Adora like you do.’_

Pride and possession aren’t needed now, but when are they ever? She’s always felt too much, and it’s never done her any favours, but at least she knows how to deal with it. She can focus on one thing if she really tries hard enough instead of letting the storm take her. And there has never been anything easier for her to focus on than Adora.

“Being She-Ra wouldn’t tell you what to do right now.”

Adora stares down at their hands. “No, but she would fucking help.”

Unfortunately she knows from experience that that is true. The Rebellion would’ve been crushed without She-Ra. If not from the force of the Horde, then by their own hopelessness. And she likes to think if she would’ve joined Adora from the start the Horde would’ve never stood a chance - not against the two of them. 

Which is the _only_ reason she says; “What if I…helped?”

Adora snaps to her eyes, in pure unbridled shock. Hands that were limp in her hold hold onto her as if she's going to disappear otherwise. “What?”

There’s really no going back on this for her now. She sighs, pulling her hands from Adora's crushing grip carefully. She feels her tail twitch with how avidly Adora watches her as she sits next to her. There’s hope in Adora’s eyes she knows has every right to be there, it still puts her on edge. 

She turns to snark, because she is still _her_ even after everything, “I _was_ always better at strategy than you, and it sounds like you guys could really use all the help you can get.”

Adora’s body finally moves at that, no longer a statue in the position Catra had left her in. Adora’s hands twitch in her lap like she wants to wring them and her leg twitches like it’s about to start bouncing. The stench of her fear has dissipated but it's painfully easy to translate Adora's anxiety.

“Why?” 

Adora’s eyes are just so wide and so fucking blue and she is, has always been, so weak for them when they’re full of hope like this.

“Because I’m tired of war, Adora.”

She doesn’t blame Adora for how clearly she cannot wrap her head around her words. There’s a whole process going on in her head that Catra pretends she’s not watching. Adora straightens from her slouch, back like a soldier, and chews at her lip before finally turning back to her. 

“You’re gonna help the Rebellion fight the Horde?” 

She can in no way read Adora’s tone, but she takes it as disbelief which is...fair.

“Don’t say it like _that_.” Should Adora say anything, she would absolutely deny calling the sound of her voice anything even _close_ to a whine. 

But really, she wouldn’t care all that much. Not when Adora looks this happy. She has actually never seen her this happy. She can’t feel the sting of the realisation over her own joy; _she_ has made Adora this happy now. Maybe she can do something without entirely fucking it up.

She’s kidding herself if she thinks she can see Adora’s eyes glowing before she tackles her in a hug.

***Adora***

_“I don’t want to leave. What don’t you understand about that?”_

_“Don’t you get it? I am_ never _going to go with you!”_

She’s in shock, she must be. If she were any more emotionally drained she’d probably start crying, as it is, she hasn’t dropped that low yet. She just lets herself smile obnoxiously wide into Catra’s shoulder. Catra doesn’t hug her back, but that might be because she’s got her arms pinned to her sides.

She lets go when she feels able to (probably taking a little too long but she _has_ managed to remove herself from Catra’s person now), and finds Catra looking at her softly. There’s still definitely discomfort, she’s not smiling and there’s a light bristling to her fur, but there’s no harsh lines or blades. 

“It’s more...I’ll help other people who live on this planet stop it from being destroyed by someone _not_ from this planet.”

“Right, right, sorry,” it's slightly teasing on purpose, just because it makes Catra relax a little.

She’s unsure what it would take for her to just kiss Catra right here and now, she’s sure there is something that would do it. But she’s still pushing down this burning inside - the one she’s labelled love - and that’s exactly what fuels it, so she manages to just sit and smile.

“I want you to help, don’t doubt that, I am…” so very in love with you, “Ecstatic, obviously… But I do need to talk to the others about it. We also need to figure out what Prime is going to do first.”

Not asking before doing something has caused a lot of problems. Between her, Bow and Glimmer mostly but it started even with Angella, and she is not about to make that mistake again unless absolutely necessary.

Catra’s claws catch in a cushion. “I’ll watch then, make a log or something on everything outside, I just need a pen and some paper.”

“Yeah okay, that’s a good idea, I’ll bring it later. I would lo-like to stay, but...” 

She manages not to wince too much at her stumble, it’s not like a near confession, but it _feels_ like it. Saying ‘love’ anywhere with Catra near just sends her into a mild panic, no matter the context.

“You need to go, I know. Keep me updated?” 

Catra’s ears perk up with the question and she has to stop herself smiling stupidly at it. “Of course.”

She doesn’t hug Catra despite the way her whole body seems to be straining for it. She has more things to worry about than how cold she feels leaving Catra like this.

* * *

Glimmer manages to catch up with her in a hallway a little under an hour later. Bow’s not with her but that doesn’t matter all that much right now, he’s probably coordinating messages with Entrapta by now. 

“What did she say?”

Right, the reason Glimmer sought her out. “She doesn’t know anything, Entrapta was the only person Hordak trusted enough to talk about him with. But she, uh, she said she’d help us.”

Glimmer halts in her tracks, “You’re joking.”

She curses herself for her own smile but she just can’t get rid of it. “I’m not. I’m going to take her a pen and some paper for her to make a log of everything she can see, then...I don’t know, I’ll train? Whatever you need me to do. Before I go, can you ask the other Princesses when they get here if they’re okay with her leaving her...room? I’m not going to say anything to her until they agree.”

“Guess she’s not much use sitting in there” Glimmer sighs, “She’s really the last of our worries now but I have to ask, do you think there’s _any_ chance she’ll side with him?”

There is not even a thought of hesitation. “No. And I’ll vouch for her in any way they want.” There’s not much she _wouldn’t_ do for Catra at this point.

“I trust you Adora. And you don’t need to convince me to accept any help she’s offering, even if I don’t fully trust her. We’re going to need everyone we can get,” Glimmer starts walking with her again, “As many sorcerers as Mystacor can afford to spare are coming here, they’re bringing some powerful artifacts. Mostly to protect them, but they’ll help at least.”

She asks too hopefully, “Is there anything you need me to do?”

“Not that I can think of. Just take Catra her things and then...guess all we can do is wait for people.”

She was afraid she’d say that. Training it is then. If Catra says yes she’ll do it with her but...maybe that’s not such a good idea. Catra’s hands and claws on her skin, her joy when she wins, the way she huffs when she loses; there’s no room for how it makes her feel in a war. She could barely let herself feel it when she foolishly thought this was over. 

She doesn’t need to be able to fight Catra this time. She’s _with_ them this time. 

_‘With you this time.’_

Her mind is still as traitorous as always, it seems. She has a feeling the peace period will have made it worse if anything. She cannot afford to be distracted by Catra.

_‘Didn’t stop you before.’_

Distracted by an enemy, distracted by an ally, there’s not much in it, either way it is not _good_. Especially when she doesn’t have She-Ra anymore. And that’s really it, isn’t it? What’s making her dread like this; it’s just her and her own weaknesses. There's no powerful beloved warrior waiting under her skin anymore. It's just her. And she, as it turns out, was never very good at saving anyone by herself. She's seen and felt enough of Catra's scars to know that. 

It doesn’t matter what Catra said, peace allowed for her to alleviate her guilt a little but war _needs_ She-Ra. The Rebellion needs her. And she’s useless. 

The hand Glimmer puts on her shoulder makes her flinch. “I know you want to help, but you just can’t, not until we know more and not without… This is going to be hard on everyone, okay?”

“I know.”

Gods does she know.

She doesn’t train with Catra. Every good thing she would feel would just be soured by the threat hovering outside the window. She goes to the castle gym and beats punching bags till the protective bandages covering her knuckles wear thin and daylight fades.

She checks in with Glimmer and Bow before she goes to bed. Glimmer informs her that she had dinner with Catra and given the circumstances it shouldn’t warm her the way it does. They invite her to stay. ( _“Adora, don’t pretend like you’re going to sleep well.”_ ) Still, she declines, tells them they should be together before the everyday falls apart, and that her training’s left her exhausted. Both excuses rather than lies. 

She’s not expecting their awkward shuffling, blushing and general fluster. More so than usual if she accidentally mentions something that might refer to their feelings for one another. 

She takes a risk, “Did something happen?”

Glimmer takes Bow’s hand in the doorway, “I told him. He said it back.”

That is the absolute last thing she is expecting right now. “Oh shit. I mean I’m - I’m happy but why now?”

“It happened two days ago before...all this,” Glimmer half-heartedly waves her free hand as she says it.

That is...bad timing more than anything. “Guys I’m sorry. I know how much you’ve both wanted this.”

Bow startles under his fading blush, turns to his...girlfriend, maybe? “Wait you told her too?”

Both her and Glimmer laugh a little, too tired for anything more. “Yeah, I did.”

“I’ll leave you guys to work this out then.”

They give her a hug anyway;  
“Thanks Adora.”  
“Goodnight.”  
“Night, guys.”

* * *

She sighs looking at the time on her trackerpad. It’s late, too late to justify this without a nightmare maybe. But she’s been facing the looming cloud of her own weaknesses all day; everything she isn’t without She-Ra. And unfortunately there’s few things that can draw that pain away like Catra, conflicting as that truth feels. 

_: Can I come see you? :_

_: I already assumed you wouldn’t even try to sleep :_

_: Is that a yes? :_

_: Yes moron :_

She is doing this to be better; the more energy she has, the more she can do. She's ready with the excuse in her throat when she opens the door. But Catra doesn’t ask why, despite how clearly awake she is, she doesn’t even move in the bed, letting Adora figure out her position on her own. She doesn’t hold Catra tonight with no nightmare to facilitate it. There are _limits_ to this strange thing they have, not fully repaired. It's fine though, Catra just being near helps, more than she will ever admit. 

Even this distance hurts in it's own way - the same and so different to the Before. But this is a war. And she can’t be selfish; can’t afford distractions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I added Glow in there completely out of the blue. I wanted at least one pair to have gotten their shit together.
> 
> Also if Adora had kissed her in this I definitely would've put the line: "If I'd have known you'd kiss me when I joined the Rebellion, I would've done it a lot sooner." And you know I would've made it angsty as fuck.
> 
> Me: remembers Adora feels She-Ra when she feels love  
> Me: oh shit I gotta do something here


	24. Tied Up: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra gets out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Know that Adora and Entrapta have had some hours of light bonding through near-death experiences in her lab at this point.

***Adora***

The Princesses arrive the following day, the sorcerers too. The Rebellion did not have to wait too long for aid and _she_ does not have to stew long in her inaction.

There’s two artifacts brought from Mystacor that can work to boost the sorcerer's natural power, and with a Runestone so close, most magic is supercharged anyway. A magenta barrier, incredibly similar to Catra’s prison except it works to keep people _out_ , bubbles to cover the whole of Brightmoon. It is just as well so many sorcerers came; it takes at least three to maintain the gigantic spell at any one time. And it does not help when they are having to make holes in it to let refugees and allies inside. 

But it is just as well; everyone is sure the reported highly advanced white bots sent out from the spire bases are on their way to attack. They can’t really think what else they could be even for. Catra’s been trying to see them and estimate numbers, but the Whispering Woods has been providing an unfortunate cover even from her wicked sight over the past two days. 

Their first official meeting in the time of the new war is about Catra. It almost feels like old times. No one seems to be exactly _comfortable_ at the idea of having to deal with Catra in general, Mermista especially, which is fair. But they do reluctantly agree to let her out to help. It’s dire, and they know that. They _understand_ that. 

They also understand that Catra is practically the best strategist to ever come out of the Horde. Catra is impulsive at times - Adora knows that better than anyone - but Catra also knows better than to give into that in a war. Something much of the Rebellion, including herself, are not so good at ignoring. Catra is an advantage they can’t afford to forget about.  
And she hates thinking of her like this. But if it’s what she has to do to get Catra free and let her actually help then it’s what she’ll do. 

The first talk doesn’t exactly go well, but it is during this short period of time that she realises how little she actually mentioned her relationship with Catra to those in the Rebellion. Frosta didn’t even know they were _friends_ before she joined the Rebellion. Just thinking her _‘obsession’_ as Mermista so kindly put it, was just because Catra was leading the other side of the war. 

_“You were obsessed with her after the Battle of Brightmoon Adora.”_

_“I wasn’t obsessed.”_ But the face of literally everyone there was enough for her to be quiet after that. 

Scorpia had just said , _“I think Catra should be allowed to help if she wants to,”_ and left somewhat abruptly after that.

That was this morning's talk, and now with Perfuma and Entrapta (who they have finally managed to coax out of her Brightmoon lab) here an actual verdict can be reached. 

“Entrapta, how do you feel about it?”

Adora’s spent more time with Entrapta in the past two months than she thought she would, and her lab has become a not-exactly-safe refuge should she need it. She actually really enjoys the busy work around the lab, and just being an ear for Entrapta to fill with things she can barely grasp. There’s always noise there, even if it’s just a nostalgic hum of machinery. It’s enough; she hates silence. 

“I’ve been comparing success and risk rates of both sides strategies during the war. Having Catra make plans with you would vastly increase chances of success _and_ reduce risk rates.”

Perfuma sits beside her, Scorpia on Entrapta’s other side, “Entrapta, I think what Adora is asking is whether you are comfortable seeing her again after what she did.”

“Oh.” Entrapta keeps her eyes on the table before pulling her mask down. They’ve all since learned that that just means she feels vulnerable or wants some time to think through something.

Glimmer hesitates, trying to make sure she’s reading it right, “Do you want some time to think about it?”

“Yes...thank you.”

Adora would breathe a sigh of relief if she were alone; interactions, especially group interactions, are still very hit or miss with Entrapta. 

With no one speaking for a moment, Frosta takes the floor, ice spilling out of her hand and spiking along the edge of the war table when she slams her fist down. (It makes her fight to suppress a flinch.) “Well, I don’t trust Catra.”

 _No one_ is surprised at how strongly Frosta can hold a grudge. (Gods knows how long it took Frosta to forgive _her_ for Princess Prom and she just unintentionally insulted her a couple times.)

“Duh.”

Mermista and Frosta were never close as far as she’s aware, but they’ve been agreeing on all things Catra given the Battle for Salineas and Frosta’s unforgiving nature. And Adora gets it, she does. And she _knows_ she’s biased, but it is only the two of them who are against it so clearly this is a good idea. It is not just her affection for Catra making her request this.

“I know that, and I don’t expect you to, but I _do_. And you trust me, right?”

The ice recedes a little, “Well, yeah but…”

She pushes just a little more, “As bad as the Heart was, if it weren’t for it, we would have lost the war to the ambush and Hordak’s weapon. Without revealing Double Trouble we wouldn’t have even _known_ about the ambush. _We would have lost_. You can’t deny we need her.”

“Well I _could_ , but…” Mermista gives one of her signature sighs, “Yeah, I guess having her on our side would help.”

Frosta remains unrelenting until Glimmer suggests that she be personally in charge of guarding Catra when she is in the meetings. And oh will Catra hate that. Adora can already _hear_ her scoffing already at the thought of being guarded by a child (of course Frosta is a teenager now but Catra won’t care about the distinction.)  
She manages to make it so it is just when Catra is actually around other Princesses that Frosta’s service will be invoked. She figures then at least Catra will have the walk to and from the war room without a Princess she doesn’t know (and who doesn’t like her) breathing down her neck.

With their most violently-inclined opposition out of the way, Adora turns back to the last go ahead they need, “Entrapta?”

“I am okay...with seeing her again.” It sounds genuine, even if Entrapta doesn’t raise her mask for her to check in properly. 

“Okay, and thank you.” 

She doesn’t know if she should be thanking her, but it’s what she does. There’s more she should say, but she doesn’t know what exactly. She watches as Scorpia offers her a pincer and purple hair curls around it.

“So we all agree, Catra can leave her cell?” Glimmer brings her concentration back from trying to think of what she might say easily enough, but she decides she will talk to Entrapta after this. She feels like she owes her that.

“On some conditions.”

Everything beyond this feels like it doesn’t even matter all that much; _Catra is getting out_ for one reason or another.

“Entrapta, can I talk to you?” 

The Princess is still seated on Emily, tinkering with her trackerpad the way she has been doing since she initially agreed to Catra being let out. Scorpia seems to be trying to make sense of it as the rest of the Alliance trickle out.

But Entrapta removes her mask when she hears her and nods, and she looks as normal as she ever does, no obvious emotional distress. That’s reassuring at least, though it’s not as if Entrapta reacts the way Adora’s come to expect from people most of the time anyway.

She’s had time to think about what she wants to say, trying to make it as to the point as she can - the way she’s found Entrapta responds to best. “I want you to know that Catra didn’t kill Hordak, it was an accident where some cables broke and a pipe near the forge fell. He was underneath. Catra doesn’t care if other people think she did it, but I thought knowing might make it easier for you to see her.”

Entrapta turns her gaze back to the table, but she doesn’t pull her mask down, which she takes as a good sign. 

She’s grateful of Scorpia chipping in when the silence stretches, “You can still feel uncomfortable or even upset around her - that’s something Perfuma kept telling me before I went to go see Catra. And if it gets too much, I want you to know you can tell any of us and we’ll take her back to her room.”

“Logically she should stay and I should leave, considering what we are trying to accomplish.”

“Maybe, but Catra’s not a Princess. You should be here. And we need you as well, you’ve done more to help us than she has.” She may not know Entrapta all that well, but she knows that much. 

She also knows both of these Princesses stayed with or _went to_ the Horde because they felt they fit there better. And they are _all_ getting better at including them because of it. That feeling of rejection, Adora’s starting to understand; just another consequence of giving up She-Ra.

“Really?”

“Yeah - think of all the bots you’ve reprogrammed. No one else could do that!” Scorpia’s right. Even with Bow, they really had no technological match for Entrapta’s First One’s tech-powered bots.

“Catra didn’t kill Hordak?”

If she were anyone else she would put a hand on her shoulder. “No. And she’s sorry about hurting you, sending you to Beast Island and everything.”

“...She named stars after me.” 

She didn’t think Entrapta would remember that. “Yeah, she did.”

Something shifts, any weight held in Entrapta’s shoulders vanishes. She looks up at Adora with what seems to be an earnest half-smile. “I’ve thought of more upgrades for my bots, I was actually...working on them in the meeting.”

She is trying to understand Entrapta, but she doubts she ever really will. She doesn’t know if this is Entrapta being okay with everything and moving on, or if she’s deflecting because she’s upset. She could ask, but it doesn’t feel like it’s her place. 

Instead, she offers the only thing she really knows Entrapta might want; “Entrapta do you want some help in your lab right now?”

“Right now?” Entrapta’s already rising up on her hair. 

“No She-Ra, meeting’s done for the day, I can’t really help with protecting Brightmoon…” 

She’s essentially pleading Entrapta to give her a purpose right now, as miserable as that sounds. But she seems overjoyed to be giving it to her as she tugs her out of the room by her wrist, Emily beeping as she follows.

* * *

Yesterday was the second time Adora has failed to bring Catra breakfast since they began this ritual. (Aside from when she's not in the castle at all.) She does not intend to make it again unless necessary. Catra’s going to have even less visitors now - not that she had many to begin with. 

But that might not be as much of an issue as she’s been thinking, not since Catra’s getting to leave her room for the first time today. And she has yet to tell her. 

Catra’s surprised to see her, though she tries to hide it, it’s obvious by her tail and ears. “I didn’t think we were still doing this,” Catra tells her when they’ve sat at her table. 

“Yesterday we had a meeting, otherwise I would’ve come. You...don’t want me to not come, right?”

“...You know the answer to that.” Catra scowls at the table and she can’t stop the smug smile that takes over her face, not for the way it makes Catra scoff and roll her eyes to hide her embarrassment. “Shut up.”

“You _like me_.” She’s expecting a kick under the table that she doesn’t get. 

“I _don’t_. You’d think if I said it enough it would get through to you. Your stupid hair poof sound proof too?”

She does kick Catra (lightly) for that one. “That’s low.”

Catra points a claw at her, “That’s fair is what it is.”

It’s nice, to still be needling her like this even with everything going on. She’s not really sure why she’d thought it would leave but...it hasn’t, and that’s all that matters. 

“I didn’t tell you I was trying to do this before because I didn’t want to get your hopes up, but...you’re getting out. Next meeting, I got the Alliance to agree to let you come. You said you wanted to help,” she adds on the last bit as an excuse for...what? She succeeded in getting Catra out of her fucking prison, she doesn’t understand why she’s trying to give _reasons_ for that. 

“I know I did. And I’ll...help. When is it?”

“In a couple hours. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for sure,” she says carefully.

Catra nods but her eyes are fixed to the table edge, face completely blank. Her arms come up to hold herself slowly, probably not even fully aware she's doing it. It’s when her ears start going down that Adora says, “Hey, stop. It’s going to be fine.”

The blank look vanishes from her eyes at least, “Adora I haven’t left this room in two months. I think I’m allowed to be a little...freaked.”

Well that’s about as close to an admission of being nervous as she’s going to get right now. She stands, trying not to make the chair scrape on the floor too loudly, she fails and Catra flinches. She _picks up_ the chair to move it next to her and Catra doesn’t move away from her when she puts a hand on her shoulder.

“I didn’t mean it like that, you can feel however you want, but it is going to be _okay_. I’m staying with you until Glimmer comes to take the barrier down.”

Catra’s hands fall from her arms into her lap, and she still won’t look at her. “Is it going back up again?”

She chews her lip, “Yes...they don’t want you free yet. I’m sorry.”

Catra takes a moment to breathe, and really that’s the first time she’s ever seen her do anything like it. It’s strange. She still expects anger at every turn and it feels...cold without it in a way. But not bad, just...she doesn’t know what to do here. 

“Getting out at all is more than I thought they’d ever...”

Catra trails off. She’d almost forgotten about that; that Catra thought the best way for her to - repent? Keep people safe? She’s not really sure - was to stay hidden away in here. 

_‘Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you went ahead with making big decisions about her life without her.’_  
_‘You’re doing it again. Assuming what she wants.’_

She tastes something bitter in her mouth, feels the trickle of guilt in her stomach. She wants to apologise. But she doesn’t. Her tongue gets tied in it. She settles for staring at her hand on Catra’s shoulder, and feeling the thin fur between her fingers. 

“There are some conditions, but I’ll tell you nearer the time, okay? It’s nothing bad, you won’t like them but…I just don’t want you thinking about it until you have to.”

“Sit with me while I go through the log?” It sounds hollow. 

“Of course.”

Catra distracts her from all she’s feeling wonderfully well all things considered. The log is boring - or it would be if it weren’t Catra explaining it. Snide comments about their powerful enemy and all. 

It is later than Adora is expecting when Glimmer knocks on the door, and they both go to the door to greet her. 

“Hey Sparkles.”

“Hi Catra, Adora tell you what’s going on?” Glimmer rolls her eyes at the name but her voice tells Adora she’s actually some sort of glad to see her. That’s a good start to this at least.

“Yeah, but she hasn’t told me these ‘conditions’ I gotta meet. Though I think I can probably figure it out.” 

Glimmer’s holding one of the conditions in her hands: cuffs (and the liquid needed for removing the barrier in the other.) Specifically ones that cover the whole hand. Glimmer holds them up and has the decency to look sorry about it. Catra doesn’t look too agitated, though maybe she’s just hiding that. She resists taking Catra’s wrist in her hand to ease something she’s not even sure is there.

“And a bodyguard in the form of an icy teenager for when you’re around Princesses.”

That makes Catra’s tail twitch, and gets her arms to cross. “Oh great.”

“It’s the claws they’re most worried about, and don’t act like that’s unfounded.” Glimmer points a finger, Catra rolls her eyes. And Adora just watches this, still unused to the two of them getting along, before she takes the cuffs from Glimmer and sets them on the table. “Okay, my dad told me how to _disrupt_ the spell rather than completely dismissing it, so it should be really quick to put back up again.”

Catra just shrugs and stands aside to let Glimmer into the room. The Queen trails a few lines of purple solution around the center of the spell - a box around the heart of it - and the blue flickers. It’s not swirling the way it normally does, suddenly static. The colour fades to white.

“Is it...done?”

“Yeah, should be, um, how about you try go onto the balcony?”

Catra is (rightfully) suspicious of it as she gets to the window. She presses a claw to the barrier and it breaks like a film, her whole hand passes through, then the rest of her follows, leaving the wall intact behind her.

Adora has not seen Catra in full, unbroken daylight in something like seven months. Not since Elberon. And it is a stupid thing to have missed, but daylight makes the edges of her figure glow orange like flame. Her shorter hair holds the light better, and she hates herself for thinking it.

She watches from afar as Catra carefully puts her hands on the white stone ledge like it might burn her. There’s something that makes her realise Catra could escape right now; just jump off the balcony and be done with her. But she won’t. And not just because of the war beyond Brightmoon. (Catra would be able to survive it out there, she’s sure. She thrived in the Crimson Waste after all.)  
She meant what she said: she trusts Catra.

She feels frozen in this moment, utterly, completely unaware of anything else but Catra against Brightmoon sky - it doesn’t matter that it is pink instead of blue. She doesn’t know why she wants to cry. It - Catra is - she’s _here_. She’s in Brightmoon. She has been for the past two months but it just feels _real_ now. 

“You okay?” 

Glimmer is next to her, worried about her. Catra is not the only thing in the world. Still, she sees her ear flick in the short distance.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. How long?” 

“Uh, about fifteen minutes now… Should I leave you two to it?”

“Yeah I,” she still got her eyes on Catra, sees no signs of her disagreeing, “I think that would be best.”

Glimmer nods beside her, “I need to go get some things from the library, I’ll see you _both_ there.”

“See you in a minute, Glitter,” Catra calls back from the balcony without turning. There’s a tension in the words that could have so many origins.

Glimmer teleports away, leaving just her signature sparkles, without another word. 

Before she can go to the balcony, Catra turns, coming back to her. Catra’s not crying but she’s not exactly _okay_ either. There’s fragility in her movements. 

“I get why I’m emotional, but why are you?”

She just shrugs, trying to keep her breathing as flat as possible. “You’re here.”

She thinks Catra understands with the soft way she’s looking at her, eyes shining from held-back tears. Catra coughs and looks at the cuffs still sitting on the table. “You gonna tie me up or what, Princess? Think it’s fair that you get me back after all this time.”

It’s a distraction, one they both need. And she takes it easily, jarred by the name and the words themselves. It’s an excuse to cross to the other side of the room and collect the metal.

She waits for Catra to offer her hands before starting to tie her into them. “I am sorry about this. It’s just the terms Glimmer got people to agree to.”

The cuffs are heavy, about an inch thick of pure metal all the way round. Is it excessive? Yes. Would it actually keep people safe from Catra if she wanted them hurt? No. But the Princesses don’t know that. 

“It’s fine, not the first time. Or even the second actually.”

Explains why she wasn’t all that distressed about it, she supposes. “Can you tell me?”

Catra flicks her eyes up from her hands, “...Sure. Well one you already know, Bow and Glimmer kidnapping me -“

“- Wait, they kidnapped you?” She almost drops the cuffs entirely.

Catra just snickers, “They didn’t tell you?”

“No, when was this?” She buckles one of the fastens, watching Catra’s face for when to stop. 

“Not long after the Battle of Brightmoon, maybe three months?”

“Yeah I - I wasn't around then much, training with Light Hope.”

“Who?”

“She-Ra hologram. She’s gone now though.”

Her tone must be short enough that Catra doesn’t press, or maybe she just wants to keep this light right now. “Hm, remind me to tell you about the kidnapping though later. It’s funny. They were awful at it. Couldn’t handle me.”

She can’t help smiling at Catra’s own smug grin, “Didn’t hold back did you?” The metal encases one of Catra’s hands completely.

“I did actually. No bodily harm. Okay, I did bite Bow when he tried to gag me.”

She laughs probably a little too loudly. She doesn’t really know why. “His mistake.”

She switches hands after the final buckle is fully tightened, and ignores the little foolish thing in her head telling her she won’t be able to take Catra’s hand if she needs it. It is _foolish_ because when has Catra ever needed that? She probably won’t even want her to touch her when she feels so vulnerable. 

She swallows around something, “What’s the second?”

“Hordak. After he found out I lied to him about Shadow Weaver escaping. And after he tried to suffocate me with whatever machine he was building back then. I’ll thank Entrapta properly for saving me one day. Remind me?”

She stops her in her movements completely. She looks up, half horrified, and expects to find at least discomfort on Catra’s face. There’s nothing, resignation if anything. 

The sadness that eventually crawls into Catra’s eyes is for her, she knows that, not anything to do with the memory. “What, you think everything was all power trips and evil scheming?”

She is slower to bring the metal around her hand after that, this seeming suddenly so much worse. 

“I at least hoped you were _safe_.” It comes out small and quiet.

Catra _shrugs_ , “Nah, higher up just meant punishments from new people.”

She is not all that far from distraught. She feels so _stupid_. When was the Fright Zone ever _safe_ , especially for Catra? She’ll figure out a way to blame herself for this soon enough, she has no doubts about that. “Catra…”

“Adora we do not have the time, and I do not have the _energy_ to do this right now,” Catra snaps, evidently done with her empathy. She probably reads it as pity. (And some of it _is_...)

“Right, more important things than you telling me your death sentences.” She works on the final fastening, tugging maybe a little too harshly with her own upset.

“I know you’re being sarcastic but that’s actually true.”

The last fasten clicks into place and she watches the muscles in Catra’s arm flex as she gets used to it. There’s really not much give in the chain between as they find out when she tests them.

“You know I could get out of these if I tried? Cut through them with my feet which _haven’t_ been bound at all. Your Princess friends did not think this through.”

“Well I know that, but they don’t.” Her fingers twitch now she doesn’t have anything to do with them. 

Catra gets closer, knocks their shoulders together like she’s not tied up at all. She looks at her with a raised eyebrow, Catra just tilts her head in return. “So I have you to thank for not being completely incapacitated?”

“I guess so. You should be thanking me.” She doesn’t mean it, Catra knows that, which is reassuring.

“My hero. Now just take me to this stupid meeting, moron.”

It just lacks the amount of teasing that would comfort her. If someone asked her to explain what exactly shows Catra’s fear she wouldn’t be able to explain; it’s just written into her, despite how well she hides it. 

“Hey,” she knocks their shoulders together again, a little softer, not knowing if Catra will respond well to anything else right now, “I’m going to be with you the whole time.”

The fear ebbs slightly; Catra’s tail stop its low subtle flick, instead eerily still. Adora’s half sure if they weren’t about to leave, it would curl around Catra’s leg. And yet Catra nods, motions for her to go forward.

She knows Catra won’t appreciate her drawing attention so she does as silently told. The door is light as she opens and stands by it. She’ll wait however long Catra needs to go through this door. The message gets across without either of them speaking. And Catra gives a sigh and then an attempt at a smile.

Catra may not have her mask anymore, it is still safely hidden away in Adora’s room, but it turns out she doesn’t need it. Her wary false smile vanishes, a picture of disinterest in its place. She doesn’t know how to feel about it’s return. In some way it helps. It just means she knows Catra can do this, they both can. There is reassurance in Catra’s constructed confidence. She finds ease caused only by familiarity in the way Catra breezes out of the door like it means absolutely nothing to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I tried my fucking best at an Adora-Entrapta interaction but it was fucking hard. (Also maybe I'm projecting onto Adora because I love Entrapta and I want people to understand her.)  
> Also just Scorpia running away from the meeting because it's so obvious Adora loves Catra back and she doesn't want to say anything like 'she was obsessed with you too, y'know.'


	25. Tied Up: Part II

***Catra***

Adora doesn’t lead her through the hallways, trusting her not to run by walking ahead. And given her track record, she’s more touched by it than she ought to be. She’s trying to make a map in her head as they walk but she’s a little preoccupied with the near-blindingly pristine cream walls. The smell she’s long used to, but the _light_ is as awful as it was those first few days in her cell.

She knows Brightmoon has guards, so the obvious lack of them must be due to the war waging outside. It is not what she’s focusing on, actually she’s not focusing on much more than her careful facade. It has been...a while since she’s employed it. She’ll blame Adora and Bow for that later. 

Brightmoon is bigger than she thought, some of the castle having been built both into and around the mountain. But soon enough she hears a collection of voices, too far away to distinguish, but loud enough she knows the open door at the end of the hallway is their destination. 

And even if she couldn’t deduce it from that, the way Adora takes her wrist in her hand would let her know. It both comforts and distresses. But she knows exactly why Adora’s done it.

She hears Entrapta first before anything else, the familiar sound as cutting as it’s always been. All she’s doing is explaining an upgrade, presumably for a bot of some kind, but it is enough. She freezes suddenly, enough so that Adora jolts with it. Her tail is snapping behind her and she cannot bring herself to try and stop it. There is definitely more her body is doing but it doesn’t matter. 

“I didn’t think she’d be here. Adora you didn’t say she’d be here!” she hisses. The screech of her claws against the inner metal is muffled but she knows Adora can hear it. 

She glares at Adora for the four seconds it takes her to figure out who she’s talking about. The ice Princess appears in the doorway up ahead but she can’t take her eyes off Adora’s face; both so she can get answers and so she can continue to see the only familiar thing here. 

“Frosta give us a moment,” Adora doesn’t look away either as she says it, just pulling her further away from the door by her wrist.  
“Why didn’t you think she’d be here? She’s a Princess in the Princess Alliance! You -“ Adora drags her other hand across her face, “I should have said, I didn’t think and I’m sorry. But she's staying. You said you want to make things better, well this…dealing with Entrapta and Mermista and everyone else is how you make a _proper_ start. Not staying locked away from everyone. If you decide you don’t want to help us you can go right back in that cell.”

She doesn’t growl, with only Adora to hear her it’d be petty rather threatening. And she’s not - she’s not angry with Adora. She’s just...lashing out because she’s hearing something she doesn’t like, exactly as she used to. She imagines that’ll happen a lot today; old wounds means old patterns.

The supposed bodyguard stands glaring at them from down the hall but Blue-Hair can’t hear them. Which is maybe the only thing stopping Catra from doing something destructive. Like leaving scars in the walls as both an outlet and a warning. Doing things like that was always meant to drive people away, but it won’t drive _Adora_ away, it never did and it won’t now. 

It’ll come again, the anger. It is her protection after all, it’s how she made it as far as she did. But she can’t use it like she used to and she knows that. She _won’t use it_. Not with Entrapta, not Scorpia, not Adora. Not even Glimmer or Bow. Those that hate her though? They’ll get anger and everything that comes with it, she is not _that_ good. 

Maybe later, when she’s back in her room, away from all the _new_ pummelling her senses, she’ll be grateful for the handcuffs. It might very well stop her doing something stupid. 

That being said, if she weren’t in chains right now she’d be able to grip Adora’s wrist and have her know what it means. But she can’t, so tragically she has to use ground-out words, “Stop me? If I start getting too…”

Adora’s whole face softens the way it usually only does when they’re alone. Annoyingly it makes her breathe easier. As does the gentle hand on her shoulder. “How?”

She nods her head towards Adora's hand, “This is good.”

Adora gives a miniscule smile that she seems to know she shouldn’t have, “Try not to piss everyone off.” 

She smirks, because that outcome is practically inevitable, and keeps her eyes on Adora as she walks backwards, out from under her hands. She has all that false confidence thrumming in her muscles when she says, “Why not? What are they gonna do? Lock me up?”

Adora is exasperated with her but there’s a smile she’s fighting down underneath it, an almost glow in her eyes that makes her feel electric to have caused it. 

She stops when the ice Princess - who she doesn’t actually know the name of - is beside her, glaring up at her with condensed fury. “What’s up Snowball?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know Horde Scum.”

Oh it’s so easy.

Snowball is dragging her along by the chain between her hands then, and she growls unwittingly. There is a silence that falls as she enters what she guesses is the Rebellion’s war room, and she despises it. She manages to keep her head up though. She will not cower before these people, not when she has been in so many _far worse_ situations. This is uncomfortable - _awkward_ \- at best.

They are technically on the same side now, as much as she hates it. So if she doesn’t fuck this up completely, she’ll come out of this unscathed. Or at least in the physical sense, she realises when a block of purple appears in her peripherals. 

She counts seven people not including Adora, Snowball and herself. It is a too long ingrained survival instinct; people, exits, architecture, shadows. It won’t help the gnawing anxiety she’s burying, but she’ll at least feel safer knowing how to escape. 

And then there’s the warmth of Adora at her side once she catches up to her, and it feels just a little better. Especially because Adora has to half-jog to keep up with Snowball’s pace and it makes her snicker.

“Sit.” Snowball is taking this so seriously she almost laughs. But she doesn’t actually want to get punched in the face right now so she holds her tongue and she takes the seat she’s forced into. 

Whatever the reasoning is for the position - seated between the Queen and ex-She-Ra, carefully away from anyone else - she has to admit it would be how she’d do it if she were worried for everyone’s general safety. She really needs to stop unintentionally underestimating Glimmer. She’d think getting trapped in a burning bunker would’ve taught her that better.

There is all of one foot in between hers and Adora’s chair and she wants it _gone_. Mostly for the fact that Snowball stands between them, glowering with her arms crossed and hands encased in ice. Adora leans on the armrest closest to her and she does the same, both to be closer to her and to smell how much Snowball doesn't like it. If she were a hybrid, she’d be hissing.

“Just so you know, Frosta’s always this intense.”

“No, I'm not.” And just like that she sounds as young as she is, all the threat gone.

Glimmer snorts at the head of the table, “Yes you are. Everybody ready to start?”

Everyone nods. Catra watches the way Adora subconsciously shifts into her perfect soldier position, back sickeningly straight. It causes a pang of sadness she doesn’t really understand. She forces herself into a more upright position, and purposefully skips her eyes over Entrapta and Scorpia directly opposite her as she looks to the Queen. 

Glimmer takes a steadying breath before, “So, Horde Prime is here. He is here for a reason and as of right now our priority is figuring out why and what we’re going to do about it.”

Well, she kind of thought that was obvious considering the fucking army that happens to be scouring the planet surface, but really what does she know?

“Doesn’t he just want another planet to occupy?” Bow says from Glimmer’s other side, ever the optimist. 

Occupation is a light word for whatever it is Horde Prime plans to do to the planet. She only needed the warships in the sky to figure that much, the spires just confirmed it. _Take over_ seems more appropriate. _Crush into submission_ if he truly is a worse version of Hordak and is worried about rebellions _like this one_. 

“We might very well be the only planet left in the Universe not under his control, so most likely. Which also means we can’t rely on any interplanetary aid.”

All the ugly feelings she has right now, the ones making her barely even acknowledge Entrapta across from her, don’t seem to apply to the Princess. Either that or Entrapta has just gotten a lot better at hiding her emotions. Catra hasn’t even looked at her yet, but the sound of her voice makes her want to wince. She won’t let herself. 

Glimmer takes a moment to process that train of thought, “Well I don’t think any of us were counting on _interplanetary aid_ , so that doesn’t change anything.”

Catra can only imagine Entrapta’s disappointment. She can’t think of anything that Entrapta wouldn’t do to be able to study an alien species. 

Just because she’s not looking at Entrapta doesn’t mean she’s ignoring Scorpia next to her. (Though maybe she’s also unintentionally been doing that as well.) Scorpia waves while a pirate a few seats down from her says something loudly. She makes her chains jangle in response with a shrug and a small quirk of her lips. Scorpia is happy with it though. As is Perfuma beside her, surprisingly if the matching wave means anything.

Catra wonders if Perfuma, or even Scorpia, has made it mandatory that they sit next to the other in meetings. She wonders it only because it’s a nice thought, and considers it for herself and Adora. (Although with her, she doubts anyone else would feel comfortable enough to be that close to her.) 

Either way, the embodiment of flower power is seated on Scorpia’s right hand side. “Could he be after the Heart? I know we stopped it but...he won’t know that.”

Super weapon at the center of the planet capable of destroying they don’t know how much? Remarkably sensible thing to assume. Good to know Scorpia picked a smart one.

“Adora, can the Heart even work without She-Ra?”

“I - I don’t think so. The sword was the channel, it shut down without it so…”

She risks a glance at Adora at that, finds her face carefully calm though the tension in her jaw suggests otherwise. She wants to reach out to her; these people apparently still don’t know what talking about She-Ra does to her. But she doesn’t do anything, for selfish reasons of course. She just can’t be _soft_ like that in front of these people. 

Gimmer states, “I say we assume it’s purely a takeover until confirmed otherwise.”

It is silent after that until Scorpia speaks up, “Alright so...what do we do?” And yes, Catra is shocked by it, but Scorpia feeling confident enough to speak out here is a _good_ thing. She’s quietly proud of her. 

“Well,” Bow starts, “We know Prime’s clones have a,” he looks at Entrapta. And subsequently so does she. And it stings. Bad. Liquid guilt in her stomach. 

“A hivemind.” Entrapta doesn’t even look up from whatever’s in her lap to say it. 

“Prime sees everything they do, knows everything they do and we’re guessing he controls them all from his ship.”

The disturbing information would distract her, if it weren’t for Entrapta choosing to at moment to look at her. It’s a brief thing, blank and unperturbed. Catra quickly fixes her eye to the circular table, registering that the beeps she's been hearing intermittently are coming from a trackerpad held by purple hair.

“It’s fascinating as a concept. I’ve already tried accessing the system through wireless transmission with the drones but the algorithm’s too protected.”

Of course she has. It’s comforting. 

“So do we try and...break the connections between the clones and Prime?” Perfuma looks to Entrapta to see if she’s got it right, but Entrapta’s still got her eyes on the screen. 

“If Horde Prime has been around as long as Hordak led me to believe, then he’ll be completely disorientated, if not incapacitated by a sudden cut off from the network.”

“We can keep trying, but we can’t rely on it. We can’t afford to give Prime any information. If anyone goes beyond the barriers, they need to avoid all bots and clones at all costs.” 

Catra thought that was obvious but Glimmer says it anyway. What civilian is going to leave? These danger-prone, self-sacrificing idiots are the only ones who’ll even think to go outside. 

“I could, theoretically, access the network by getting close enough to a spire since the energy output is so great. Or maybe even through a clone!”

No one says anything. Which is ridiculous. Has no one else been watching like she has? Of course it is _Entrapta_ and she won’t care about the dangers, but the others fucking should. 

“With the amount of bots and drones you’d be lucky to avoid being killed on sight, let alone make it out alive.” Maimed is really the best possible outcome.

It’s then that she realises she’s just spoken to Entrapta for the first time since she condemned her unconscious body to a supposed execution. And she’s telling her not to get herself killed. The irony.

“I could teleport her in?”

It occurs to her then that the majority of people at this table have magic; and powerful magic at that. She’s never had that particular brand of power on her side before and she's got...mixed feelings about it considering the witch that ruined her. But she’ll get over it. Magic is just another tool. It’s an _advantage_ , one she would be a fool to dismiss. And besides, they brought her here to plan. She should probably get on that. 

But before that she needs to convince them to not do _this_ reckless plan, and something she never had to do before; explain why not. She never had a council in the Horde, and it’s not like she would’ve listened if she had. She went against every superior she ever had and was worse to those below her. But that’s not important right now; she just has to be better than that. This isn’t about her.

She leans back in her chair, calculating all the ways that Glimmer’s idea can go wrong. She’d drum her claws on the table if she had use of her hands. 

“Just appearing out of nowhere only works if _you_ know what’s there. And you don’t. You could take a bigger team for defense, but that would draw too much attention from the bots on the outside.”

Bow nods, probably relieved that his best friend isn’t going into _that_ particularly dangerous situation. “What if we tried disabling the spires entirely? Close them off to stop more bots coming.”

“Only if you can do it remotely, or from a safe enough distance, I guess.”

There’s a silence after that which she can only hope is because they are thinking and not waiting for her to do something. She can feel Adora watching her and any other time she’d welcome it (feel empowered by it.) As of right now it makes her fur bristle.

“I think that’s a line of thinking for when we have more information. So if we ignore the spires for now, is there any way to attack Prime directly?” 

And here’s where her and Glimmer differ apparently. 

“Now that’s a fucking terrible idea. We’ll just have his whole army breaking down the only protection we have.”

Glimmer reluctantly accepts that she’s right and sits down.

“Are you actually going to give us anything useful? Or are you just going to shut down every idea we have?” the Princess whose Kingdom she destroyed, people she saw murdered, the one person she might have pushed even further from her mind than Entrapta, says.

She whips her head to the sound and finds deep-seated, genuine _hurt_ in the eyes of someone she doesn’t even know. She thought she knew all the ways to feel self-loathing but this is new. This is knowing she had an impact in the most horrendous way possible. There’s no escaping this, and there’s no previous trust to fall back on here. 

Turns out she’s been on a hairpin trigger this whole time. It’s not exactly surprising.

She feels that familiar anger, the one she just _knew_ would show up. It’s fuelled by guilt and the need to defend, like a spark in her chest; destructive and begging to be let out. She’s glaring with bared teeth, claws cutting into metal and a growl sitting in her throat. 

“Mermista, my dear, I don’t think that’s the best idea right now,” she hears whispered down the table. At least she has a name now.

And then there’s Adora’s hand on her shoulder, dousing the feeling, dragging her back up from red. Exactly like she asked her to.

“Other than the hivemind and not being able to access his system, how much do we actually know?”

It’s nice to see that Adora hasn’t forgotten the years she spent (trying to) talk down precarious situations her growls, hissing, claws and comments caused. It’s still so fucking strange to find similarities between their old lives and this one.

She closes her eyes, forces herself not to visibly melt into the comfort Adora’s voice and touch brings. She almost forgets about Frosta’s presence hanging over her shoulder - she felt the ice near her head, but it retreated too quickly for it to bother her all that much.

“Oh practically nothing. Extensive army, tech more advanced than I’ve ever seen, controls most of the Universe beyond Etheria.” Entrapta probably shouldn’t look that excited about that but...it’s Entrapta. (It is a lot easier to look at her now that she has a measure of observable hatred to compare her to.)

“Brilliant. We’re doomed.”

Her jaw twitches at Mermista’s voice, but it’s fine, she’s not talking to her.

“Don’t fret my love. We faced uh -” The flamboyant pirate looks at her, gritting his teeth as he seems to try and find a way not to say her name, she kind of wants to dare him to. “- Well we’ve faced dire circumstances before.”

Gods if someone had said that to her even a few months ago she’d take it as a glowing complement of her achievements. It’s an...unexpected piece of proof that she’s improving, however slowly.

“As flattering as that is, Horde Prime is not me. If he’s anything like Hordak he won’t want his hands dirty. He’ll stay hidden safely away in his ship and send out - there’s reports of clones?” Bow nods, “We’ll be swamped with clones and bots and whatever else he’s got as soon as he realises we’re the ones trying to stop him.”

Entrapta darkens a little at the name but there’s not anything she can do about that right now. 

“Catra’s right - that felt weird to say.”

“Even weirder to hear, Arrow Boy.”

He smiles a little at the name she hasn’t used in a while. “Prime has more firepower than we’ve ever seen. Until we know how to hurt him - is it even worth trying?”

“What do you mean?” She doesn’t jump at the sudden unexpected voice over her shoulder no matter how much she wants to. 

He addresses everyone in his response, “Is it worth the people we might lose fighting against an enemy with no apparent weaknesses?” 

And this is when she realises just who she’s working with. It’s jarring. And she’ll have to adjust to it. But it makes so many things that much more obvious. 

“No.” Everyone turns to her sharply and she successfully fights down a hiss. “The only people you’re willing to risk - because for some reason you don’t have an army - are yourselves and the Rebellion needs you here defending not getting killed trying to get information. Brute force can’t solve this - it won’t even make a dent in _his_ army. You don’t attack.”

“We can’t do nothing.” Catra’s kind of grateful for having a reason to be able to look at Adora, to be able to see the little frown lines she’s got on her forehead. Always insisting that something has to be done, Catra can hardly believe she used to get angry at it. 

“I didn’t say that either.”

“So what _are_ you saying?”

Any response she might give Mermista will end with snarling, so she doesn’t even bother, “Entrapta have you sent your bots out to do recon?”

If the bots don’t have cameras or at least microphones installed, she’ll be beyond shocked.

“No, they’re still helping with the war relief. But…” there’s a brief minute of tapping then, “Half of them are now.”

She nods at her, gets a neutral expression back. The guilt is still there, but given that Entrapta is talking to her, not glaring like _some_ , it is a lot easier than she thought it would be to do this. Scorpia is grinning ear to ear for obvious reasons. She doesn’t even want to tell her to stop which is another nice little bit of progress she’ll cling onto. 

“The other half should defend the people who aren’t here. They’ve still got their weapons right?” Adora asks.

“Not all of them.” She trusts Entrapta is already sorting out the algorithm for which bots are to stay. “I have a surplus of bots I have yet to upgrade, should I do that?”

Bow thinks for a moment, “Can you get them up and running so they can protect the barrier?”

Entrapta just grins in response. Nice to see that losing Hordak (and surviving Beast Island) hasn’t changed her all that much.

“Should we even be encouraging people to come here? The more of us that congregate, the more clones and bots that’ll come to attack us.”

Since protecting people is not exactly her strong suit, she decides to take a backseat on this one. Glimmer will figure out how to protect her people. 

“We should collect accounts from refugees about what they’ve seen,” Perfuma suggests.

She lets her attention wander after that, since she’ll go right back to captivity and won’t be able to help. She doubts any civilian would even want to talk to her anyway.

“Frosta, you said that your castle is holding refugees as well?”

“Yes, I’ll -”

It is easier to breathe without Frosta directly over her shoulder, even if she has just moved to the opposite side of her to review numbers or something. 

She turns away from the head of the table as soon as she hears Adora shift in her seat. She finds Adora half slumped into the laughably princess-y design, far from the soldiers posture she’s been holding this whole time. She drags her tail over Adora’s leg in a silent question, grateful for Frosta not being between them so she can do it safely. 

Adora looks over at her as her tail retreats, tired and...disappointed, she thinks. “She-Ra. They need her.”

She should’ve figured as much. “I know. But they need you alive more than anything.” Adora hums nonchalantly, looking down at where she touched her. There’s a subtle twist in Adora’s lip and it has worry swirling in her gut. She swallows before saying, “Adora, I need you to promise me something.”

Adora’s eyes flick between hers as she tries to figure out what, but remains stubbornly silent.

“I need you to promise that you’ll be smart about this.”

Adora picks at her nails and gives a single laugh, “You calling me dumb?” 

“No. I’m calling you impulsive.” 

Adora just scoffs in response. Even though she _knows_ she’s right. Adora’s still that same self-sacrificing soldier she’s always been. She’s never had reason to change, so why would she?

And Catra hasn’t had to consider the idea of losing her completely in a long time; not since she _lost_ her to the Rebellion, not since the portal. And it is a horrible collection of thoughts, feelings and memories to return to. It doesn’t flood through her, more like the faucet of her mind’s been loosened. It’s going to build and break. But not just yet. She just hopes she’ll be alone for when it does.

“Catra I need to help in whatever way I can. You know that.”

She knows what that _means_. Whatever way - _any way_ \- is the same thing. Adora is reckless and determined and persistent to a fault, and she loves her for it dearly, truly she does (didn’t always, torn between hating and admiring for a multitude of reasons.) But it was always her downfall as well as an asset. She’s exploited it enough to know that.  
It makes her predictable. 

“No. Promise me. No running into this head first.” 

_‘You’re not going to survive it this time.’_

She can’t say that out loud. There’s no possibility that Adora will take it the way she means it. She’ll read it as Catra seeing her as weak, like she can’t handle herself without She-Ra, the way everyone else has made her feel. She won’t figure out that she just wants her _alive_. Which means...which means she’ll have to say it. Out loud. In front of all these people lest the chance slip from her fingers.

“We - _I_ need you alive,” it comes out just as desperate as she feared and the vulnerability makes her skin itch.

Adora looks up at her then, at the near pleading, eyes full of conflicting emotions. She doesn’t have time to decipher it before; 

“Well that’s rich coming from you.”

Those walls she _stupidly_ let drop for one fucking moment slam home again. There’s a snarl ripped from her chest before she has the chance to stop it. It is a threat, and a poorly thought through one at that. But it doesn’t matter. Mermista doesn’t know _shit_ about her and Adora. 

There’s ice against her neck, burning on her pulse. She could bite down on it, shatter it beneath her teeth if she tried. But she doesn’t, if only because she realises how ultimately foolish it would be. 

It’s probably meant to silence her, it does anything but. She can't roar, but gods does she wish she could sometimes. 

“Frosta, please, she can’t help it.”

Well she _can_ be it is hard and she doesn’t _want_ to. Let them be fucking scared. She came so fucking close to destroying them all, they fucking should be. 

But she deserves the reminders for all she’s done. All the scorn and hatred for the bruises she’s left on the planet. But...she also has the walking proof of her many betrayals sitting across from her, and unsettlingly fine with her presence. She doesn’t _need_ the reminder for what she did, and nearly did, to Adora because it lives within her constantly, despite her forgiveness. And she especially doesn’t need it from a stranger.

All she wants to do right now is be done with this. And if she thinks selfishly enough, to be wrapped up in Adora’s arms in her bed. This is not a nightmare though, this does not justify the warmth of Adora around her. The most she has now is Adora’s hand on her shoulder, her eyes bringing her to where she’s supposed to be. 

The ice recedes. Adora pulls her chair closer, eliminates the distance when Frosta tries to stand between them again. And all that anger fades to white noise. Adora is here. Adora forgives her. Adora cares. Adora knows she never wanted her dead, it was a lie she told herself spun out of pain. Adora isn’t scared of her, she is next to her, comforting her despite it all. 

“She never wanted me dead, Mermista.”

She almost cries with that confirmation. She ducks her head and breathes, and it stops her from burying her face in Adora’s neck. She’ll settle for Adora’s hand sliding down her arm to hold her wrist. 

“She just… the Crystal Castle…”

Adora’s hand relaxes its grip as _something_ occurs to her. Catra has been to the Crystal Castle, left Adora for dead there, so she understands why she’s thinking of it. She just doesn’t know why Adora looks like she’s figuring something out. 

“What about it?” Glimmer asks, a reflection of Catra’s own thought so exactly that it confuses her for a second that it’s not coming out of her own mouth. 

“It’s got data crystals thousands of years old - the First Ones fought Prime, maybe they left some information about him.”

That is actually...a smart connection to make. One that no one else would. And she’s proud of her. (And she’s glad she’s proud of her.) Entrapta squeals across the table at the prospect of more tech, though she should’ve expected that. 

But going to the Crystal Castle means leaving Brightmoon, which means she’s going to be facing drones and bots and clones and everything else _without She-Ra_. And sure, Adora can take care of herself but...not like this. Not when she’s ready to charge in without a plan at a moment's notice like she so clearly is. Because she didn’t promise. She _didn’t_. 

And those memories start dripping a little louder, a little bit faster.

“I’ll go tomorrow.”

Of fucking course. Why does she - why does she even bother? There’s a flare in Adora’s eyes and it is hopeless to fight it. It’s that damn determination; that need to help in whatever way she can. Headstrong moron. 

She can feel her ears flattening to her head. She looks to Bow and Glimmer, surely they’ll agree it is too dangerous for her to go alone. They have to. They’re not fucking stupid. Luckily she finds what she’s looking for in Bow’s eyes, he nods to her in a silent understanding.

“I’m going with you.”

She almost sighs out loud out of relief. Instead, she remains as blank as she’s able to project, “Glimmer, should go too.” 

She really ought to not say anything else, it’ll just come out bitter, but she has to give reasons for wanting three of the Rebellion’s most important members to leave at the same time. 

“Going through the woods is a fucking death sentence right now, teleport them there and they can message you for when to teleport them back.”

Adora’s fingers brush against the pulse in her wrist and her ear flicks in response because _somehow_ she momentarily forgot Adora’s hand was on her. She’s getting caught up in her own head and she really cannot afford to do that right now.

“Plus Prime doesn’t get led to a First One’s ruin,” Adora says with a little smile that says she’s going to get her way. Catra’s never really seen it used when not in regards to her. (And it’s annoying because she kind of loves that smile.)

Glimmer relents, nodding before summarising;  
“Fine. So Entrapta, work on the bots, Scorpia go with her. Catra continue your log, Adora, Bow prepare for tomorrow. I’ll take a shift protecting the border. The rest of you decide who’s going to interview refugees and who’ll defend with me - long range attacks only.”

* * *

Glimmer walks with her and Adora back to her room, puts the barrier back up and leaves. Catra notices her not-so-subtly psyching herself up for what may or not be a fight before she teleports away with a wave.

“Wasn’t so bad was it?” 

There's less tension in Adora’s shoulders than there was earlier, which is at least a small relief. It’s nice knowing she’s not the only one to have found that mildly harrowing. 

“Hope by that you mean it could’ve gone a lot worse.”

Adora smiles as she takes her hands, beginning to unbuckle the many fastens. It takes a while, but without conversation she luxuriates in the gentility with which Adora treats her. A warrior’s hands turned soft is always a fascinating thing to see.

She flexes her claws when the cuffs finally do come off, feeling the itch underneath them that wants her to rip something, “Haven't got anything I can tear into, have you?”

“No.” She pouts to get Adora to roll her eyes at her. “You’ll live… Hey I’m - I’m proud of you. For today. I know you hated it.”

She takes a step back, feeling her throat close up, “Yeah, yeah whatever.”

The smile shrinks, “I don’t know how early I’m going tomorrow, but I’ll try and come if I can.” 

The reminder that Adora is leaving tomorrow twists her face into something she doesn’t want anyone to see. The memories haven’t stopped flicking through her head - every time she thought she’d never see Adora again, and every injury she’s ever acquired. At least she’s almost alone.

“What’s wrong?”

Or she will be if Adora leaves right now like she _should_. She breathes about three times before she finds an answer, “You didn’t promise me.”

“What?”

“That you’re not going to get yourself killed trying to - to prove yourself -“

“- That’s _not_ what I’m trying to do.”

And this is why she didn’t - gods this is exactly what she thought would happen. Why is she so bad at this? They’re supposed to actually be able to talk about things now. “That wasn’t what I meant - I - you’ll do anything for this - you’ll _be_ anything for a cause. Don’t even pretend otherwise, you were made that way.”

And it is a horrible thing to say. But she says it anyway because then _maybe_ Adora will actually listen to her. Only problem is she has no idea if it’ll work. She sighs at the upset on Adora’s face.

“Just...promise me you won’t go head first into danger unless you have to.”

That about as concise and honest as she can get it, but it doesn’t feel like enough. She feels like she’s asking so little but she also knows Adora won’t see it that way. 

“Catra if someone's in danger and I can help? I’m going to do whatever I can.”

“I know, _I know that_ , it’s what you _do_ but I just…”

And it’s selfish. It’s so fucking selfish of her. And hypocritical in many ways. She wants Adora alive; she wants her to deny everything she’s ever been taught and raised to believe so she’ll come home safe _for her_. To be able to be here with her. Damn the world. She just wants her safe.

Those memories that have been dripping through her conscious are finally finding their breaking point. Does she even want to be alone right now? She can’t tell.

 _‘I can’t deal with the hole you’ll leave in me if I lose you. I’ve felt it before. I can’t do it again.’_

If she were braver she’d say it. Maybe Adora deserves to hear it. Or maybe it’s better to keep these selfish words to herself. It’ll save Adora the guilt and the obligation to do as she asks. But the _obligation_ might keep her alive. So it’s selfless as well? She wants Adora alive, that's a _good thing_ , so what does the reason matter?

There’s so many turnovers in her thoughts she’s almost dizzy. She steadies herself on the only thing in reach, which just so happens to be Adora herself. Adora who’s holding onto her upper arms in an instant, eyes worried like she matters right now.

She doesn’t, this is about Adora. And so she clings onto her, not caring about how desperate and fragile she must look. “Just be careful.”

“I will be. I promise I’ll come back.”

And that’s just it, isn’t it? The leaving. The staying. Them together, them apart. Adora in danger, Adora safe. She wants to believe her. But parts of her _just don’t_.

Air is coming into her lungs too quickly, burning on the way down. She's not crying but Adora’s eyes are swimming in her vision. She knows what this is, and it’s not as bad as it’s been before. This is fine. She can handle this. It’s shallow water, not drowning. 

“Catra?”

The heat, the firmness of Adora herself - here, _not gone_ \- is grounding. Of course it is. She takes her lack of shaking to be a good thing. She’s already coming out of it before it’s even properly begun. Adora doesn’t know that though, she crushes her into her chest. It’s probably a good thing she hasn’t been pulled completely under a wave of panic otherwise she wouldn’t be able to breathe here. But she can, she gulps down breaths that taste like Adora’s worry; like her need to calm her down.

She clutches onto her, not caring about anything else beyond the embrace. She soaks herself in it; warmth and home and Adora’s little whispers of, “You’re okay, you're safe, I’m here, I’m not leaving you.”  
There’s tears because of it, ones she’ll be ashamed of later. She already despises herself for being this fucking weak, however, there’s nothing she can do about it but try to surface.

It comes easier than ever for obvious reasons. She’s never had anyone here to help her through it, she’s never even let anyone _know_. Except, of course, Adora. Because she’s always the exception to every rule she’s ever made for herself.

She chokes out a thank you into Adora’s shoulder, she wants her to know that she’s grateful for her being here, holding her like this. Because she _needs_ this. Tragically and pathetically, she needs this. She needed it in that meeting and she needs it now. 

“Do you want me to stay tonight?”

_‘Always.’_

If she could, she’d purr her agreement into Adora’s clothes. But as it is, all she can muster is a weak little nod. One Adora doesn't question.

Adora leaves once she’s calmed down. She has a mission to prepare for. But she comes back before nightfall. Adora doesn’t take her into her arms immediately when they settle down after dinner. She falls asleep next to her. And in some ways Catra likes that she can’t sleep; it means she gets to watch her like this. Peaceful. Safe. Soft. _Here_.

She watches the stars when all her attempts at sleep remain futile. Or at least she does until Adora stirs beside her of her own accord. She only half-wakes if the unintelligible mumbles are anything to go by. It doesn’t seem to be a nightmare.

Adora reaches out for her in her waking sleep and Catra feels every tension inside her drain away. Barely, she holds herself back from stroking through her hair. She shuffles closer and Adora’s arm wraps sloppily around her waist, she grunts into her hip and it’s unbearably cute. But she gets the message.

She lies down on her side, feels solid muscle and giving flesh curl against her back, feels Adora's even breathing in her hair. It doesn’t seem to matter how happy being with her like this makes her, how calm and content, it still takes hours for her to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to Adora!
> 
> If I put Netossa in this, her and Catra would win this immediately and I've still got an ever-growing number of chapters to write, so yeah a lot of characters aren't in this
> 
> Also fun fact: if a cat can purr it can't roar. It's the defining difference between a 'big cat' and a small cat. So Catra is kitty <3 
> 
> Me: I need to write this long and difficult chapter  
> Also me: write them kissing


	26. Entrapta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT WAS ENTRAPTA'S BIRTHDAY ON THE 24TH!!

***Adora***

Yesterday was...a lot. Not that she expected much else. Catra getting out, the tension between _everyone_ , the near fights and Catra letting her calm her down. Though the fact that the last thing worked so well is still astounding, she thinks once she’s woken up with Catra in her arms. (She doesn’t _remember_ falling asleep like this but she must just be remembering it wrong.)

She should probably get up. Or at least check the time. They’re not exactly leaving late, but she doesn’t want anyone to come looking for her and see Catra like this. (She tells herself it’s not because she’s oddly protective of seeing Catra vulnerable but that is a damn lie.) And just like every time she’s found herself in this position, she wants to trail kisses along the side of Catra’s face and brush through her hair; just make her purr in general. And just the same as always, she refrains. Because she’s not allowed to want that. 

Every time she’s tried to sneak away from Catra after waking up curled around her, Catra’s caught her, so there’s no point in trying. She turns over, heart melting a little at the way Catra shivers with the cold where her skin’s now exposed, and reaches her hand blindly for the trackerpad that is usually under the bed. She finds it and checks the time; early enough. She can waste half an hour here before there’s any risk of being late. 

She never curls back into Catra once she’s moved away, _because_ she wants it so badly. Also because Catra is usually also awake by this point. Today’s not different; Catra’s not moved yet, but her soft snores are breaking off quickly and her tail's starting to animate. Catra wakes fully with a groan as she rolls onto her front, burying her face in one of the pillows. It makes Adora snort just loud enough to get a one-eyed glare.

There is the barest whisper of a purr muffled by bedding and she kind of wants to drag Catra into her side so she can feel it. Catra didn’t purr at all last night and in some irrational way it made her feel like she failed to make her feel better. In some ways, she supposes that was true. But she has the confidence in herself that it wasn’t _just_ her fault she was feeling that way. 

The sound cuts out all too soon. Catra narrows her eye before pushing herself up to sit. She probably doesn’t mean for her tail to arc across the bed and hit her side but who knows. 

“You’re still here?”

“Got about half an hour, more if I push it.”

Catra nods before her face sours like she’s remembering something. She probably is. And gods does Adora hope it’s not going to be a repeat of yesterday. She never wants Catra to cry, but especially not because of her. That being said she will not hesitate to postpone the mission should Catra need her to be here.

“I’m sorry, about how I acted yesterday, that was…” Catra trails off with a look on her face that says she’s disgusted with herself. And she can’t allow that to stand without at least trying to reassure her.

“Yesterday was a lot, for both of us. I - I needed this,” she waves a hand at the bed, “Just as much as you did.”

It’s completely true. She needed to be sure Catra was going to be okay after everything. She obviously _was not_ but at least she was here able to hold her. However, Catra doesn’t look like she believes her. She doesn’t outright call her a liar though, so that’s good.

With the bed up against the wall, Catra has to climb over her to be able to get up. Her tail drags along her arm as she stands. Adora pretends she’s not watching Catra’s every move as she draws the curtains. She doesn’t even know why she bothers anymore - pretending that is. 

Catra grabs her log and makes a few notes, looking far too grim for early morning. And yet it’s still soft; Catra in morning light with her sleep clothes and wild hair. The light’s not fully broken yet so her eyes are shining more than they usually do. 

And she’s beautiful. And she can’t tell her that.

“Want me to go get breakfast?”

Catra nods, eyes still out the window, probably counting. Adora sighs as she gets her clothes from the top of the dresser where she left them last night, before retreating to the bathroom to change. She takes her sleep clothes back to her room with her and finds her own trackerpad (just in case) before collecting breakfast from the kitchens and returning. 

Catra’s dressed too when she returns, staring out the window again but in one of the dining chairs now. She settles into the other, waiting for Catra to turn and take her plate but she never does. Now she’s worried. Even the sound of the trays on the table didn’t make her move. In fact, no part of her is. 

And she’s not thinking clearly when she stands and walks in front Catra’s line of sight. It breaks her out of her haze at least. Catra asks a silent ‘why’ and she honestly can’t answer for a minute.

“Don’t scare me like that.”

She doesn’t understand it either. It’s not even worth trying to figure it out right now, or even today. There’s too many other things rattling around in her head for that to become another. Catra swallows and turns, taking a tray and waiting for her to return to her seat. 

“Any, um, reason for that?” she tries, ignoring her own weird behaviour.

“Remember what you’re going to do today?” It’s carefully emotionless.

“...Yes.” Obviously. Catra starts her meal without looking at her. “Is that your way of saying you’re worried about me?”

Catra shrugs but her tail flicks high enough that she can see it over the edge of the table. She doesn’t _want_ Catra worrying about her. She knows how awful it is to worry about things out of your control but she is also still going to go. She needs a distraction for her, preferably one that’ll last until she gets back.

“What if I get Entrapta to come see you while I’m gone? Both of you seemed alright yesterday.” Catra just carries on eating, giving nothing away. “I know you might not want to and I’m not saying you have to but I just...there might not be a lot of time for it in the future.”

Catra’s ears droop as she realises she is right. “Can’t afford to wait, huh?”

“Yeah…”

“Alright. I’ll talk to her _if_ she wants to see me.”

“She will. Want Scorpia too?”

“Ask her that.”

Catra’s got a right to be as...snappy as she is. Technically yesterday counts as a set back as well as progression. She gets it, and she’s determined not to say anything that’ll make this mood worse. Doesn’t mean it’s not annoying. 

“I just think if you have to worry, then worry about something you can actually _do_ something about.”

Catra _seems_ to soften a little, “No I - I get that. I want to see her when we’re not surrounded by your Princess friends who hate me. It’s not...going to stop me worrying though.” She half spits ‘worrying’ the way cadets used to say ‘weakling’.

So she ignores that part, for Catra’s benefit. She would say ‘they don’t hate you’ but that’s probably a lie at least in regards to Mermista. Maybe even Frosta.

“Better than being here alone with your thoughts.”

“True.”

She grabs one of the staffs that sits against the wall by the door. It’s the only weapon she’s trained with at all since the sword, and the one she knows best. She turns back to Catra, finding her looking smaller than she has in a while. She quickly wraps her in a one armed hug, unfairly elated when Catra’s hands land warily on her hips. 

Catra moves away from her before she lets go. She knows it’s just Catra...protecting herself, or whatever it is. But it’s like the old her in a way that makes her feel guilty. Her feeling like this is her fault after all. 

“See you in a couple hours.”

“Yeah…”

Seems the best way to convince Catra of that is to just...come back.

* * *

***Catra***

Adora was right to suggest Entrapta coming. Though she is no way going to admit that. It is probably one of the few distractions available that might actually work. Not that she’s exactly going to _stop_ thinking about Adora. That’s a lost cause.

She gets a message from Scorpia asking if they can come see her now about an hour or two after Adora leaves. She’s not proud of how long she waits to send a message back.

No one knocks, though that’s to be expected from these two. They walk in, Scorpia first and a mass of hair second. She’s just glad it doesn’t hurt seeing them.

“Hey Entrapta, Scorpia.”

“Hi Catra.” It’s sweet that Scorpia’s smiling so damn wide. She probably wants this to work as much as she does. More, considering it’s _Scorpia_. 

Entrapta waves silently, face entirely blank. Right, and this is Entrapta. It has been...a while since she’s had to use her language. That being science and facts; the best, and possibly only, way of keeping her attention. Logical rather than emotional, which means it’s a far cry from any other interaction she’s had since the Horde. Emotions confuse Entrapta to a degree and it used to be annoying that someone was so inapprehensive in the face of her threats. Now, that might actually work in both their favours. 

“Why don’t we do what we did when I came?” Scorpia suggests. 

Better than standing silently in the middle of the room. “Entrapta do you want to sit down?”

The Princess nods but doesn’t move, so Catra takes a seat at the table first. Scorpia guides Entrapta gently forwards, and the Princess opts to take the chair opposite her while Scorpia takes the armchair. 

She’s glad Scorpia’s being relatively quiet for this, as glad as she is that she came at all. It means more than she’ll let show. But this is about an apology before everything else. The catch up she knows Scorpia is yearning for can happen if this doesn’t immediately fail. She doesn’t really have any concrete idea of how this’ll go, she doesn’t even know how upset Entrapta is with her. 

And she’s stalling, essentially. Which is kind of shitty of her when she asked them to come but...this is still so fucking hard. Or at least it will be if she ever fucking says anything. She just has to say sorry and go from there. That’s all. This is _Entrapta_ she’s not going to be confused if there’s nothing preceding it. 

She hates that she has to steel herself for this but… “I’m sorry. For everything. And I know that’s a lot to apologise for but -“

“- Did you kill Hordak?”

She should’ve seen that coming. Entrapta has a unique way of being direct. She’s missed it. She’s even missed her ramblings that leave her head spinning as she tries (and ultimately fails) to keep up. But once she gets past that, she realises Entrapta doesn’t sound upset. More some desolate form of curiosity. 

“In a way, yes. Do you want me to tell you what happened?”

Entrapta nods, sitting forward. She’ll want to know everything. Even Adora doesn’t really know the whole story - and she’s not meant to be thinking about Adora right now. That is the last thing she needs; worrying about whatever stupid danger she’s gotten herself into now. 

Catra looks at Scorpia, searching for anything that’ll tell her if this is a supremely bad idea. Scorpia just has an encouraging, though wary, smile. She hears a click and some static, and Entrapta’s hair is now holding her recording device. And wow she hates that but this is her apology so she’s not going to say anything.

And she tells her. Hordak finding out she lied, him trying to kill her with the blaster, her up in the rafters, destroying the weapon, and the ceiling coming down on him afterwards. It’s not graceful or smooth in the way she tells it. Often taking back words to get it as true as she can remember it. But she’s not crying either. 

Entrapta turns the device off, thankfully not playing any of it back. She doesn’t want to lie and say she feels bad about what happened. But she does say she’s sorry for the pain it’s still causing Entrapta now; that is true. One apology won’t bring back her friend. She’s not so unempathetic to not realise how hard this must be for her.

“I know you’re sorry - your ears have been sloped down this whole time... I miss Hordak. People tell me that’s okay and normal. They expect me to be angry at you but I’m not because it’s not your fault.” Entrapta debates to herself silently for a few minutes before, “I forgive you for sending me to Beast Island.”

Well that’s already far more than she thought she’d forgive her for. Entrapta not forgiving her for indirectly causing the death of her best friend - she'd be surprised if it went any other way. But based on what she knows about Entrapta’s experience on Beast Island, her too-easy forgiveness to that kind of tracks.

“Oh, um, Adora told me you had a good time there,” she tries. 

And just like that she lights up. It is a jarring mood switch. “I did! The entire island is malfunctioning First Ones Tech. It had so much information about the planet. I was going to go back, maybe even set up a specialised lab there but then Horde Prime showed up.” Entrapta is smiling just thinking about it. 

And she smiles as much as she’s able to in return, “Bet you didn’t want to leave.” Entrapta doesn’t pick up on just how strained all her words are, but that’s a good thing. 

Entrapta shouldn’t have even been there in the first place. Although it did mean Glimmer got her father back, she remembers that. Micah and Entrapta are probably the only ones her horrible actions ever benefitted. (Because it certainly didn’t help her.)

“I didn’t but Adora said I could mess around with an intact First Ones spaceship if I came back. She’s called Darla and she’s amazing!” Entrapta could be describing a human if she didn’t know better, with how wistful she sounds.

She's unsure as to exactly why Entrapta talking about Adora so casually stuns her for a second. Enough that she rapidly blinks a few times to bring herself back to hear Scorpia say, “She spends most of her time outside the lab with her.”

She turns to Scorpia, “The one we found in the Crimson Waste?” There can’t be that many spaceships lying around on the planet, surely. 

Entrapta nods happily. “I wanted to try and get her space ready again, since we’re back in the wider Universe I could actually visit other planets.”

She can’t help but look at the warships speckled across the sky, “Don’t really think that’s a good idea right now.”

Entrapta’s hair deflates a little, “No. But after this! The Universe will need to adjust to an existence without Prime.”

Well it’s nice to see someone believe that they’re going to win. Because honestly she doesn’t. Not that she’s going to tell fucking anyone that. Maybe she’d feel differently about that if Prime had any fucking weaknesses she could exploit. Right now everything is about defense and that’s never really been her strong suit. 

“Yeah. When this is all over. You can probably do whatever you want. Working on anything interesting during the peace period?” She’s actually genuinely interested, but she’s not sure if that comes across. 

“Most of my efforts were going towards automating menial processes needed by the people, as well as redistributing and repurposing old Horde tech...” It sounds like something she’s carefully practiced, or at least not a whole truth. 

“Okay. And what were you working on that you didn’t tell any of the good guys about?” 

Entrapta looks like she’s just passed a test or something, which considering her, it wouldn’t be out of character for her to have made one. Her theory isn’t exactly disproved by Entrapta typing something into a modified trackerpad. Scorpia is beaming at the two of them anyway. And when Catra leans back in her chair, she finds her smile is now natural. 

“I was working on portal technology again now that we’re out of Despondos.” There’s that manic grin.

Catra tries her damn best not to let her face drop, lets it fade slowly instead. Portals remain a persisting motif in her nightmares. Angry red swirling storms paired with whoever her subconscious wants to torture her with that particular night. She doesn’t want to ever see one again if she can help it, let alone go through one willingly. Even if they do work. 

“Oo I was helping with that!”

But it’s important to Entrapta. And nothing horrific is going to happen if she gets her to talk about it. Letting Entrapta talk about her work and listening is the best thing she knows to offer her. It was what ‘bonded’ them or whatever in the first place. Obviously the other Princesses have been more accommodating in that sense now, but she can still do it too. 

“They’re working now?” It sounds way too forced. 

“No, not yet.” 

Catra knows exactly how much she means that ‘yet’ part. “Be careful. Both of you.” It comes out before she can think better of it. 

She ignores Scorpia’s little ‘aw’ as much as she can, hissing only quietly, enough that they both know it's for show. Entrapta is smiling still as she types something into her trackerpad (at least it looks like a trackerpad.)

“Can I ask about that?” she asks, figuring it’s about her work. She’s wrong.

“Oh, yes of course. Back before you sent me away,” Entrapta completely ignores how she flinches at that, “I was trying to understand interpersonal relationships more and I collected all the data I had on how people interacted with me. It was an algorithm for determining whether or not someone was my friend. Do you want to see?”

It’s not even nice to be right. “No, I’m okay. That would compromise the data anyway wouldn’t it?”

“Yes I suppose it would. I’ve been trying to implement a sub-module that takes into account past experiences as a foundation for renewing a relationship.”

She feels her tail curl around her ankle. “Sorry.” It’s maybe the first reflexive apology she’s ever given.

“It’s not just you, Wildcat. She also had to program it for the whole ‘leaving her in the Fright Zone’ thing since it affected the results for everyone in the Alliance.”

It doesn’t do _all_ that much to comfort her, but it’s something. “Okay... How far did you get with the portals? Without the sword and everything?”

“They haven’t worked so far. I don’t have the materials here to make the infrastructure and hardware. And most of my stuff is still in the Fright Zone. But when I do get them working? Oh it’s going to be revolutionary!” When not if, it’s enough to get her to smile again, though much smaller. “In theory, we’ll be able to cross galaxies in a few minutes, oh think of the civilizations I could see.” 

“I’m happy for you. Studying all of that has gotta be your…” she waves her hand, “Dream I guess.”

“It is, it is!” Entrapta claps like she does when she’s excited (if she’s not jumping around on her hair.)

There’s more typing and it sets her on edge. Her tail must start snapping or something, because Scorpia tells her, “She’s just making notes of what you’re doing, she’s not actually inputting it.”

She mutters, “Guess that’s better.”

“Other people got uncomfortable when I inputted directly into the system while they were with me.”

And then, just because she can’t help but think about her, “How’s Adora doing?”

Adora’s doing better than most, it turns out. Coming to see Entrapta at least twice a week. And Catra loves her for it. Conversation goes off the rails after that. Really whatever Entrapta wants to talk about her and Scorpia listen. It’s more than maybe she ever did in the Horde. And it has a low burn of regret firing in her gut. 

(She’s glad Scorpia never brings up the _Adora thing_ with Entrapta here. She’d ask too many questions and really, Catra’s unsure she’d be able to get through that without driving the two of them away.)

There’s a sudden beeping after a while that has her tail stick straight behind her. Turns out Entrapta set aside exactly an hour for this. Fit with a timer and everything.

“Sorry Wildcat, Entrapta got a schedule these days, I forgot about it.”

“It’s fine. That schedule include sleep?” She has _never_ seen this mad woman sleep. Not once. In the Horde she figured if Entrapta had any powers besides her hair and brain it must be that.

Entrapta just laughs though. “I’ve still got the upgrades to install in the bots. _Some of them_ aren’t responding to the new code all that well,” she says it how superior officers used to scold her before she hit double digits.

Entrapta rises up on her hair, ready to leave with a wave but she stops her, “You know, you ever want someone to rant to about morally ambiguous experiments, you can come here.”

“Okay!”

She catches Scorpia making one of Bow’s ‘big eye’ faces at them both. “Don’t say it.”

“Super Pal Trio is back!”

She sees the hug coming, doesn’t fight it. She’s getting better with this. She pats the princer wrapped tight around both her and Entrapta, “Okay, okay you’ve made your point.”

Considering she doesn’t have to fight to be able to breathe, she’ll assume Scorpia’s getting better at controlling her strength. Or just has just very recently realised breathing is important.

As soon as they’re both put down, Entrapta says, “Bye Catra!”

Unsurprisingly, she rushes off down the hallway as soon as she gets the door open, her hair waving for her as she gets stuck back into her work. Catra swears it's like she’s got a magnetic pull towards her lab. 

“You better go after her before something goes wrong.”

“Yeah, oh boy are those bots being a problem right now. She thinks it might have something to do with the Moonstone or the barrier.”

She shrugs, “She’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t doubt that.” She walks Scorpia to the wide open door, not expecting the Princess to turn around again. “That seemed to be easier for you. Apologising.”

She huffs, “Been getting a lot of practice.”

“I’m just proud of you.”

Apparently it doesn’t matter who says it, or how many times, hearing that never fails to make her emotional. Probably (definitely) because she never heard it before coming here.

She wraps her arms around herself, “Thanks.”

Scorpia puts her pincer on her shoulder, “And Adora will be fine.”

Scorpia runs off after Entrapta before she has a chance to react.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That bit where Adora's like 'don't scare me' is because of the finding her on the throne completely immobile, like Catra's always moving so when she's still and silent it freaks Adora out. I didn't really want to explain it in-text so...
> 
> And you know how Entrapta had that graph set where she was like Catra's my friend the data says so, yeah she's adding onto that. I’m weak for super pal trio sue me. Also found out that a common neurodivergent thing is experiencing no relationship decay which honestly explains the canon reconciliation as well as this a little. 
> 
> Adora POV for the Crystal castle next week (it was going to be this chapter but I switched them round which is one of three reasons why this is late)


	27. Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora and Bow go to the Crystal Castle

***Adora***

Entrapta agrees, Scorpia agrees and the Best Friend Squad is ready to go. She’d almost say today is going perfectly if it weren’t for the state of the lab when she’d gotten there. Needless to say that some of those upgrades are undergoing a rocky birth-phase.

Adora’s got a staff in hand and a bag tied to her belt, but that’s it. She still can’t bring herself to use a sword after everything. Bow’s got the trackerpad they need to contact Glimmer and his own bag for tech attached to the inside of his quiver - newly replenished with an assortment of arrows he was working on during the peace period. Not necessarily secret projects, but she doesn’t have any idea what most of them do (one of them probably shoots fireworks for all she knows.)

Entrapta already had code for tracking First Ones tech ready to download onto the pad. Which she now thinks may have contributed to at least some of her encounters with Catra during the war. But Entrapta’s fine tuned it a little, only picking up signals past a certain power threshold so the Crystal Castle itself won’t register. So all they have to do is follow the signals around until they get an intact enough data crystal. 

Adora looks away when Bow and Glimmer say their quick little goodbye, feeling like she’s intruding when he kisses her forehead. There’s a little envy as well and she _hates_ it, crushes it down so far she’ll fool herself into thinking she never felt its fleeting presence in the first place. Glimmer doesn’t even have to take Bow’s hand, she’s already holding it when she reaches out towards her. 

There’s worry in her eyes clear as anything, and she knows Glimmer would be coming with them if she wasn’t needed here. She squeezes Glimmer’s hand in reassurance. This should be a relatively quick and safe mission compared to their other ones.

They appear outside the Crystal Castle instead of inside it. Which would be fine if she knew whether it’ll still open for her. She tries the password and it works. Makes her feel a little better; less useless. Even if she's never necessarily needed She-Ra for the password to work.   
Glimmer kisses Bow on the cheek before she teleports away with her telltale shimmer. 

Adora honestly didn’t think she’d ever be back here. But it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t ache all that much. This place was never a home. There’s horrid memories here, most of them eased now that she has Catra worried and waiting for her in Brightmoon. All those simulations sting less than they once did. Really it is just Light Hope’s lies and shattering the sword that can hurt her here now. Unless the castle decides to replay some more memories which... 

“Bow I should, um, I should warn you that this place can project memories, or...mine at least,” she says as they stare down into the softly glowing cavern. 

He gets his trackerpad out from his quiver, “Oh, um, do you want me to look away if that happens?”

He's trying so hard to mask his confusion. It gets her to laugh, “No, it’s okay I just wanted you to be prepared. But they might not be…fun.”

His brow softens further, “The Horde?”

“Yeah.” They both enter the structure, the hatch closing behind them and swallowing the natural light. “I told you Catra followed me in once, right?”

“You did. Is that what happened? You guys relieved some memories and it all went sour?”

“More or less.” She has even more regrets about that day now that she understands Catra better. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if she sees Shadow Weaver hurting Catra - even a fake Catra - again. 

She’s expecting danger as they reach the entrance hall. She’s not She-Ra anymore, this place has an uncomfortably high chance of seeing her as a threat. But the place doesn’t immediately light up red, so she can at least get the next breath into her lungs. 

“Don’t touch anything unless we’re taking it, I don’t know if it’s going to recognise me anymore.” It’s remarkably bitter in her own mouth. 

She turns to find Bow already looking at some First One's writing carved into a rock; a crystal pyramid rising from the floor. Technically it is a data crystal and they could definitely use it, but she remembers what happened last time someone tampered with these particular crystals. 

Bow backs away from the writing quickly, “You’re not doing great with not having her are you?”

He phrases it as a question, but it sounds like something that’s been sitting on his chest for a while. She can’t really blame him; he needs She-Ra just as much as anyone else on the planet. 

“No.”

“We can get through this without her, you know. No one is upset with you for destroying the sword when you needed to.”

He’s the second person to say that to her. And she still doesn’t believe it. She’s just glad he realises now is not exactly the time to talk about it. He points to the pyramid he was just examining, “Is this one?”

“Yes but the whole place might shut down if we force it out, I,” she manages to snort despite it all, “I shot a beam at Catra with the sword by accident when she tried to take one and the whole place went on lockdown. She was so pissed at me.”

They start walking towards one of the many doorways. The castle remains unusually silent, the soft glow of the writing on the hallway walls beckoning rather than angry. 

“That’s one of the more understandable things for her to get angry at you about.”

“Yeah.” It’s stupid that she’s smiling in this situation. “We should go deeper if we can, try and find something we don’t have to pry out.” Or a bigger stash, whatever comes first. 

“Why, do you think some high-powered tech will just be lying around on the floor?” Bow makes a geographical marker on the pad so they’ll be able to find their way back.

She shrugs, more relaxed now that the doorway hasn’t come crashing down on them both, “I’ve seen a lot weirder in here.”

The castle is still as much of a maze as it’s always been. She doesn’t even know _why_ it’s so big. There’s nothing here. Well, not anymore. Maybe Light Hope had purposes for all these halls. Or maybe these big empty halls used to be specialised training rooms. Holograms had to be somewhere, she supposes. Bow suggests maybe they had been places for allies of She-Ra to stay once. It’s interesting to think about at least. 

They open a door that leads to pitch black and she steers them away immediately. 

There are monsters here. Electric rather than magical, but dormant. She is terrified of waking them up. She’s sure they can handle the spiders together, but the creatures that are in these walls, half concealed and blank-faced, she’s not willing to find out about. They actually need to get the tech out of here once they find it. 

After maybe an hour of aimless walking, it doesn’t take them much longer to figure out that the most powerful signal - the one that keeps growing the further they go, must be the Heart. Purely because she thinks nothing else would have the power to cause Bow’s trackerpad to malfunction the way it is. If it were simply a matter of the miles of walls, the signals would stop entirely. They probably shouldn’t have come down so far. That being said, they still haven’t found anything. 

Eventually the pressure starts getting to them both, or maybe it’s the castle’s way of telling them to turn back. Either way, they turn around and lock onto a different energy signature.

She’s not sure what finally triggers a simulation. But she wouldn’t be surprised if it’s because she was thinking about Catra to fill the silence. They just turn the next right and it’s a green Fright Zone hallway, little glitches in the textures stopping her from panicking. 

Bow puts a welcome hand on her arm, “Is this one of the memories?”

“Yeah.” Another her runs through them, maybe nine years old, and clutching something to her chest. “Also I might disappear.”

“What -“ 

She clamps a hand over his mouth in case ‘she’ says something. ‘Adora’ stops, looking around for what has to be Catra. She lets Bow go, the two of them following her memory round a corner. Adora doesn’t really remember this, but if what she's holding is a ration bar then it would make sense. This happened far too many times for her to remember every one. 

‘Adora’ looks up at a vent that’s hanging half open in the ceiling before calling, _“Catra you in there? I brought dinner.”_

She waits a few moments before the glow of Catra’s eyes appear in the ink of the shadow. She grins and waves the bar in her direction. A clawed hand wraps around the ledge of the opening before Catra’s body swings down effortlessly. Her claws clink on the metal as she lands in front of her. 

_“What flavour is it?”_

_“Brown.”_ Catra makes a face and she laughs, Catra knows it’s the brown kind today, it always is on Wednesdays. _“Better than going hungry.”_

_“Not by much.”_

She shoves her, lighter than she would anyone else. _“Shut up, do you want to share or not?”_

Catra grabs her by the wrist - the one not holding the food - claws only digging in slightly, and pulls her into the furthest corner. She splits it, giving Catra the bigger half like always. Her best friend curls into her side before she takes it. It is winter after all. Even if the machines heat up the floor below them, Catra’s always been the best heat source she’s ever known. 

When she takes the first bite the simulation vanishes. She’s back in her normal body, with Bow standing frozen a few feet away. She gets to her feet, walking on. “Come on, we need to keep moving.”

She knows he wants to say something but is looking for an opening in case this isn’t something she wants to talk about. She gives that opening, “That might be the nicest memory this place has ever shown me.”

If she does somehow trigger them herself, then that makes sense. The castle is still linked to her mind, so it...projects a memory to mirror that. Last time what started as good memories got poisoned by some bad feeling every time. Looking back, that was probably Catra’s doing. And it makes her miss her; long for her as she is now. She starts walking faster. The sooner they find what they’re looking for, the sooner she can stop Catra worrying (and the sooner she gets to curl up with her like in the memory.) 

But Bow doesn’t live in her head, has none of her guilty thoughts, “Catra was so cute!”

She grins so wide it hurts because Catra would kill him for that. Or at least she’d say she would. (She knows Catra likes him.) Catra probably wouldn’t even talk to her for a while for agreeing, but Catra’s not here so, “I know right! She had to _grow into_ her hair.”

Bow near squeals and she _gets it_. “I know Catra’s protective of your memories, but you have to tell me more stories when we get back.”

Her brain kind of short-circuits on the ‘protective’. She didn’t think Catra’s jealousy extended to _memories_ but… “Yeah - yeah I’ll ask her, I guess, about what I can tell you.”

They walk a while longer before Bow starts looking around like he’s expecting another to appear, “Do you know why it showed you _that_ memory?” 

“No, not really. That wasn’t - I don’t even remember that. Catra got food bans a lot, courtesy of Shadow Weaver, so I’d always give her half of whatever I could get my hands on... When I could find her.”

“Well that….actually explains a lot.”

Luckily there’s no more holograms after that. It’s been another hour or two when they come to another crossroads (not that this is exactly their first, this is just the one they’re choosing to actually stop and consider their options.) 

Bow points, “The one with the most light?”

It’s as good a bet as any. 

And it is a _very_ good bet. The light, naturally, has a source. One which just so happens to be a wall full of data crystals back lit by what must’ve once been a screen. A whole wall. Entrapta would cry. (Which she shouldn’t think about, because then she’ll just think about Catra and she can’t afford to be distracted when this place might very well collapse at any moment.)

“What do you say we take as many as we can and run for it?” Bow says brightly.

She shrinks her staff down and clips it onto her belt before removing the bag. “Just what I was thinking.”

Nothing starts screeching as they pull as many crystals as will fit in the bag off the walls. She doesn’t want to leave anything here in case they can’t find a way back but Bow manages to talk her into leaving once they can’t carry any more. He makes another electronic marker just to appease her. 

They cross the room's threshold and the lights turn bloody. A sensor in the wall or something. **“Unauthorized presence detected.”** Sadly the crystals weren't responsible for powering the lockdown systems.

She sighs, tightening the bag at her hip, “Without Light Hope I was hoping this wouldn’t happen.”

“You’ve gotten out of these before, right? Without Glimmer?”

“Uh, yeah.” 

They start running. Naturally. She still doesn’t know how to turn this damn thing off. And she probably should, considering how many times it’s put people in danger.

They make it back to the crossroads in under two minutes. They stop only to check the trackerpad (it’s picking up signals again) for how to get back to the entrance, before rushing down what they assume is the right tunnel. The red light shuts off into pitch black behind them section by section. Three long hallways pass by before they see any spiders. It’s a left or right decision at first, before eyes light up to their left and the machines start screeching. 

“Shit.”   
She knows Bow would say the same if he ever swore.

Bow shoots a net and slime arrow down the hallway to slow them down. She’s unsure as to how well it works considering they don’t have the time to look back. The shriek of metal as the bugs rush after them is as awful as it always is. 

She knows they can’t outrun them, so as soon as there’s a hallway too small for their large frames, she grabs Bow by the arm and drags him down it. For all she knows this is a maintenance tunnel. She’s never figured out how the spiders track people, but it’s obviously not smell because they carry on past their turning without stopping. 

They’re still running, but slow enough now that it’s almost a rest. “Well, good news,” she says through rough breaths, “Means we’re close to the entrance. There’s worse monsters lower down.”

“Did you see that green one with all the tentacles way back?

If she weren’t running she’d be laughing, it’s a weird, but familiar feeling. “Gods I’m glad that thing didn’t wake up.”

“Do you hear the beeping?” She nods. “It’ll get faster the closer we get to the marker.”

This is why Bow is the tech guy, because she’d never think of that. 

Another main hallway is still red up ahead, the only light that’s in the tunnel now. Bow pulls her left when they reach the hall. The only sound in the castle is the distant crumbling of the walls. She can’t hear more spiders but she has a horrible feeling that won’t be the last of them. 

The castle seems slower in a way, because the doors on the sides of the tunnels only close after they pass. She’s actually considering thanking the castle for being so fucking old, it makes it a lot easier to get out of alive. Either that or losing Light Hope messed with the protocol. 

The beeping does get quicker. Bow calls Glimmer as they run, only stopping another moment to get it out of his quiver again, telling her to be waiting for them in the entrance. Unsurprisingly she’s a bit panicked by it, but they’ll apologise when they get out. 

There’s more spiders in the distance, because _of course_ there is. She knows Bow can hear their hissing too. He risks a look back and they must be closer than they sound because he runs just that little bit faster. The lights are still shutting off one by one behind them, but the red in the walls isn’t enough to stop her recognising a mark etched into the stone. It’s one she made herself after a particularly infuriating day’s training.

“I know where we are, just two more rights and we’re back at the start.”

The entrance court comes into view exactly as she said it would. The crystal pillars are shuddering, some of the ceiling smashing to the ground. The door hasn’t slammed shut yet. But it will. Soon. Because there’s no way they’re getting out of this that easily.

The spiders are catching them up. The lights are still shutting down, following them by plunging their previous steps into blackness. And the door that’s going to come down any second is getting closer.

Her and Bow are evenly matched for speed. It’s something she found out relatively early on in their friendship. But her Horde training means she’s got just that much more stamina. And she uses it to run just that little bit faster, ready to hold that damn door up. 

There’s too much adrenaline soaking her thought for her to realise that she can’t _do_ that anymore. She is essentially _fragile_ \- horribly weak - like this. And she doesn’t care. She forces herself to stop in the doorway, Bow a few steps behind. She’s not moving till he’s through. 

In some way it’s nice to be right when the stone comes crashing down on her. 

She catches it on her hands first before it falls to her shoulders. She's not strong enough to hold it, only to slow it’s descent. The ancient material crumbles a little in her hand, chips of it rolling down her arms. 

Bow slides under it, reaching out for her, trying to pull her through, but the force pressing down on her from above won’t let her move. She _can’t move_. 

She’s still got to get Bow out. He needs to get back to Glimmer. She - she’s got to get back to _Catra_. She has to _move_.

Last time she was able to do this. She could lift this door, weakened with age, despite how it’s designed to not let even She-Ra through. She can’t do that now - or at least she shouldn’t be able to. She shouts her throat raw as the door presses down across her shoulders harder, feels the burn in her muscles spread to every part of her body. It’s a burn she knows, a tidal wave of something she doesn’t have the mind to figure out right now. 

She is glowing. Gold, gold, gold, then iridescent white as she shoves the stone up over her head. 

She feels Bow’s hands on her arms, dragging her forward and she’s glad. There’s a static in her mind right now, making her limbs heavy despite how strong they felt a moment ago. Strong like mountains and iron and...and She-Ra.

“Adora?”

She looks up at Bow, rights herself so she’s actually standing before looking back at the shape she’s left in the door. It was her - the towering humanoid carving says as much. As does the fact that the obnoxious red light has returned to blue, all lockdown procedures suddenly halted. The spiders on the other side of the door are immobile now, eyes dark. She imagines once they’re gone they’ll scuttle back off to wherever they came from. 

“Adora, Bow are you okay?” Glimmer teleports from the other side of the room, she must have been waiting in the entry hall. 

He gives her a quick kiss on her cheek, “I’m fine.” The insistent beeping gets turned off. 

She can’t take her eyes off the silhouette in the doorway. “Yeah I - that was her right? I’m not imagining that?”

Glimmer grabs her arm and shakes her a bit with her excitement, “No, no that was her!”

She’s smiling, but she wants to cry with relief. She throws her arms around her friends, both of them hugging her as hard as they can. And when she pulls back, they don’t let her go, all holding onto one another.

“Do you know what - how that happened?” Glimmer asks. Some of her magic is spilling out of her pores, sparkles moving through her hair as she grins.

Her hands grip them both tightly, “No I just - she just - she was _there_ and now I - I feel the same way I have since I broke the sword.”

It feels warmer though, under her skin. Maybe that’s just the residual magic. Magic that she still _has_ apparently. 

Bow’s still half-breathless from running when he says, “Well, now we know she’s in there, we can get her back.”

She nods. And keeps nodding because she can _get She-Ra back_. She just has to figure it out. And she will. By the gods she will. She-Ra is...is how they win. It’s what she was made for, wasn’t it? Winning the First One’s wars. She’s a weapon.  
A weapon Prime doesn’t know about.

There is hope burning in her chest. Familiar and alive. 

There is strength and power still inside her. Purpose simmering under the cage of her skin. And all she has to do is...let it out. Bring it out. _Drag it out_.

Because this means she is _needed_. Finally, she is needed again. Useful again. Wanted again. She is _enough_ again. She-Ra is here. And she’s never going to lose her. Never again. She can’t. Not now. Not when people will be looking to her, relying on her again. 

She has to be enough for them. 

But it is also so much easier to let them down like this. There is no _I can’t_ keeping her from failing anymore. There is _I can_ and there is _I must_ , the same as it’s always been.

And there is fear.


	28. Home: Part II

***Adora***

“Hey, can we not tell the Alliance about She-Ra returning yet? I - I want to be able to - I want to know that I _can_ bring her out if she’s needed.”

Glimmer keeps her hand on her shoulder while she says, “Yeah, of course. Whatever you need to do.” And then teleports away, leaving her and Bow standing in the throne room’s entrance.

* * *

“Entrapta, you’re gonna love this,” Bow says as he dumps his collection of crystals onto one of the tables in the lab.

The look on Entrapta’s face is priceless. There are tears. They spill over when Adora places down her bag as well. She picks one up with her hair, turning it over. Adora has no idea what she’s doing, checking for faults maybe? All Adora knows is that it says _Protocol 27_.

Bow asks, “Will you be able to read them?”

“Hm? Oh yes, I’ve been rebuilding the infrastructure needed to translate it. I had a specialised setup in the Fright Zone but it’s simple enough to replicate a beta version.” Entrapta points to a half-welded hip-high pedestal with a little insert for a crystal in front of a screen. Honestly with all the pipes in the room, it kind of feels like a more-purple version of the Fright Zone. (Which makes her think of the memory she saw, which makes her think of Catra but she is _not_ going to see her yet. She has to check on Entrapta first.) 

“Need any help?” Bow offers.

“I have help, Scorpia’s just gone to get lunch. I think Perfuma said she was going to make us all mini fruit platters.” Entrapta starts up a recording of the Princess to confirm it. (Adora always forgets that she does that.)

Bow knocks her with his elbow, “Lunch is a good idea.”

Right, it’s been at least three hours since she last ate. Surprisingly, she’s not actually that hungry. She blames adrenaline and magic. (And worry, but she won’t admit that.)

“Bow is there anything else I need to do today?”

“Not officially but,” he gestures above his head, making a face that is in no way subtle, but Entrapta’s not looking, “Maybe do something about that.”

“Right. Yeah. I’ll get on that.” She has no idea how to even _start_ but...

He puts a hand on her arm before he goes to the door, “You coming with me?”

“I’ll catch up, I’m - I'm gonna go see Catra first.” She shouldn’t feel embarrassed about that - she thinks it’s embarrassment - but after the memory she just _needs_ to be around Catra. (And there is guilt because of it that she is desperately trying to ignore.)

“You gonna tell her?”

She laughs, “Can you imagine what she’d do if I didn’t?”

“She’d forgive you.”

“Yeah, _eventually_.”

“ _Eventually_ ,” he agrees, “See you later then, you too Entrapta.”

“Bye Bow.”

Adora wanders back over to the table, rolling one of the crystals over in her hands. “How did talking with Catra go?”

“Good! Scorpia said it went really well and I trust her. Catra invited me back.” Entrapta compares the size of the crystal to the indentation. 

She smiles, “Yeah, you okay?”

“Definitely.” And then Entrapta’s grin gets hidden behind her welding mask and an armful of crystals.

* * *

She takes her staff off her belt as she walks so she remembers to leave it in Catra’s room. Also so she can fiddle with it as she awkwardly stands on the other side of Catra’s door. It’s been a while since she’s hesitated like this. She’s not missed this lack of confidence when it comes to Catra. 

But she manages to knock on the door and pushes forward while she has the nerve before there’s any reply. Catra was obviously sitting at the table with her log, but she’s standing now, smiling with relief as she walks towards her.

She throws the staff to the ground, not giving it a second thought once she pulls Catra into her arms. It shouldn’t make her as happy as it does when Catra holds her back just as tightly; which is to say near-crushing. Catra starts purring into her shoulder while she grins into hers.

“Saw a memory. Missed you,” she mumbles as explanation. 

Catra’s purrs give way to let her say, “You okay?”

“Yeah it was a nice one.” Catra purrs louder. 

She eventually has to move away. And she consolidates the loss by getting to see Catra’s face. There’s a speckling of grey around her ears where her tufts are starting to grow back in which she’s never noticed before. Catra's also making a strange face, she's now realising.

“Still worried about me?”

Catra seems to shake away a thought before she takes a step back. Adora knows Catra is just checking her for injuries but it still makes her heart beat faster to be under her eyes like this. It’s somehow simultaneously lazy and intense. She hopes to the gods she’s not blushing.

She coughs out, “No injuries.”

Catra drags her eyes back up to her face, “Good.” And then punches her in the arm.

“What, you trying to give me some?”

Catra’s ear flicks as she scowls, “That’s for worrying me.”

“Well you didn’t need to. _We_ just brought back a whole library's worth of First Ones tech for the Rebellion.”

There is a _flicker_ of surprise on Catra’s face, one she suspects no one else would be able to catch. Because it dissolves before it’s even fully formed, Catra crossing her arms and rolling her eyes, “Yeah, yeah congrats Princess. If you’re expecting a song it’s not gonna happen.”

She snorts, “What because you can see Mermista singing in my honour?”

“The pirate definitely.”

“Sea Hawk sings no matter what happens, says it’s part of his charm.”

Catra quirks her eyebrow in a way that has always looked unfairly good on her, “He has charm?”

She rolls her eyes before she goes to ‘tackle’ Catra but really she’s just wrapping her arms around her waist roughly while Catra pushes at her face pretending she hates it. A Horde-safe hug. “What no purr this time?”

“Not when you’re being this much of a cocky little shit. Take it, it went well then?” Catra fights her way out of her arms, hands on her hips like she’s never been more in control. 

“Yes. But admit it, you’re glad I’m home.”

Catra smirks, not looking her in the eye, “Don’t push your luck.”

Gods she just wants to touch her. Even after hugging her _multiple times_ , the want is not satisfied. It’s not _usually_ this bad. She can’t even bring herself to try and figure it out because really, what good is understanding _why_ going to do? It doesn’t fix anything. 

She needs to stop making excuses for herself about things like this. Even justifying the overly familiar ways she touches Catra doesn’t make them okay - doesn’t remove the selfish intent behind them. But she’ll stop making excuses later, when she’s left this room and the way her body strains to be near Catra behind. 

She pulls Catra along by the wrist, same as memory-Catra did, to the armchair. Safe enough for now. Catra doesn’t even fight her on this, goes easily with her into the chair, sitting far closer than is necessary. 

Excuses will end later. Now _isn’t_ later. She winds her hand with Catra’s.

And Catra’s shocked by it, that much she can tell without looking at her face. Catra’s fingers flex away from the hold so her claws won’t pierce her skin. But she doesn’t pull away. Catra leans back into the chair, looking anywhere but at her. And it’s almost worse than not touching her at all. But she’s not giving up the hold on her, not now that Catra’s holding back, however weakly. And all of this is so stupid because they’ve done this before. They must have. This doesn’t feel new. 

“So, anything interesting happen out there?” Catra half-coughs out.

“Uh, yeah...something - something happened out there. Something you’re not going to like.” She holds Catra’s hand tighter, like Catra won’t run away if she does. And Catra stays so she’ll convince herself it works. 

“...What?”

“She-Ra she, um, I felt her. She’s still in here somewhere.”

She feels Catra stiffen, there’s a loud snap of her tail against the fabric, and clawtips pricking at her skin. It contrasts greatly with how blankly Catra says, “Well that’s good. It’s what you wanted.”

“It was - is.”

Catra’s eyes flick over her face. “So why do you sound as uncomfortable as I feel?”

She stares at their hands, focuses on the fact that Catra’s here with her like this, “I don’t - I don’t want her to ruin things between us again.”

She wishes there could be a world where Catra was allowed to be more important to her than She-Ra. Where she could forget all about her so she could keep Catra as happy as they were before Prime. Because Catra’s not happy. Not with the way she swallows silently and looks to the floor, her tail curling around her own arm. 

“She won’t be around a lot. I don’t even know how I did it. The door was going to trap us both and she was just...there waiting for me when I needed her.”

She doesn't tell Catra that she might not have survived if She-Ra _wasn't_ there. She doesn't want to scare her for no reason. Not when she kept her promise and came back. Even if she _wasn't_ careful like she said she'd be. She also thinks about telling Catra that She-Ra came forth when she thought about her and Bow and Glimmer. But she doesn’t. Because she doesn’t want Catra pulling away from her. Not when she’s leaning into her. She didn’t realise Catra was - is - leaning into her. Catra is pressing her forehead to her shoulder and she freezes. 

“I can smell her magic on you.” Catra pulls away quickly, clearly trying not to wrinkle her nose. "That's what that was."

It makes her stomach sink; Catra’s always found comfort in the way she smells. She wants to apologise. She thinks Catra’s the only person she’s ever felt she’s had to _apologise_ to for being She-Ra.

She slowly pulls their joined hands into her lap, just so she can hold Catra’s with two. Because she _needs_ Catra to not pull away from her for this. She hates how her voice shakes, “Do you hate it?”

“What?”

“Me. For being her.”

Catra looks stricken by that, ears flat to her head. Catra’s mouth opens a couple of times before she’s able to say anything, “Adora I don’t - I don’t know. I spent the whole war trying not to think of her as you. At first I tried to convince myself that she was this _thing_ that _made_ you leave. But that fell apart pretty quickly.”

She tries to think after that but it’s more difficult than it should be, “The Sea Gate?”

“Yeah. She spoke like you, she smelt like you under it all and she…” Catra tucks her head into her chest, “Bleeds the same as you do.”

The almost-gone scars on her back ache. She can’t stand to see her look this guilty. She tries for teasing, since it’s really the only way she knows how to fix this, “Well I’d like to think you have to put a little more effort into it.”

“You do see how that’s not a good thing?” Catra snaps as she pulls her hand away.

She doesn’t know what to do with herself now. “Yeah, I know but…” She decides to sink back into the chair. “This is - this is how we win.”

Catra looks to the ceiling, her breathy laugh is sad, “‘We’. _I’m_ going to win because of She-Ra. You do get the irony in that, right?”

She stares down at her empty hands, “I do…”

Catra sighs, her ears finally returning to their normal position, and leans back so they’re shoulder to shoulder. She bites out, “I’m sorry,” before her face softens, “You were probably excited about it before me.”

“Yeah, I guess there was...excitement.”

Catra turns in towards her, looking like she's ready to pick her apart no matter how much she hides. “You spent all this time wanting her to come back - feeling guilty for not having her - and now you’re…upset?”

“No, no, I am excited about having her back. But then there’s you, and everyone else and every _thing_ else that comes with her and - and I don’t know.”

“...So, what are you gonna do now?”

“Try and get her back properly I guess.” Catra makes a questioning face. It’s cute but she can’t say that. “I couldn’t keep a hold on her before. And I don’t want to tell the Alliance unless I know for sure that I can transform when I need to.”

“But you told me?”

“Of course I did.”

And apparently that fixes _something_ because Catra smiles, subtle and small. And she curls into her, rests her head on Adora’s shoulder, clearly still smelling the magic, but ignoring it. And everything just seems...easier.

“You’ll get her back. And you’ll save the world, same as you always do.”

“Don’t know about ‘always’, but thanks. You promise me we’re going to be okay?”

Catra pulls back only enough to pull the arm she was leaning on around her shoulders, “I promise.” Catra fits into her side and Adora melts into the contact. _This_ is what she needed. Right now it feels like _all_ she needs.

“ _Now_ you get a purr.”


	29. Sides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If she weren't officially a Rebellion soldier before...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for trauma response and violence just in case.

***Adora***

Three days. She has spent three days trying to get She-Ra to - to even _be there_. She can feel her now, can recall times she felt her before. There’s something waiting at the edges of her fingertips when she tries, and her eyes glow otherworldly blue on occasion. But she can’t _hold_ it. It’s like light; always slipping through her fingers. It doesn’t work.

“Hey Adora, did I - did I do something?”

She _was_ just about to leave for another day of trying (and when that doesn’t work, training till her arms are numb.) But she is not going to leave now. She knows that tone, it’s one that makes Catra’s ears pull back. She turns and finds she is, unfortunately, correct. Catra’s got her arms crossed and hip cocked but her ears give her away. (And the words but…)

“What, no, you - you’re - we're okay. You promised, remember?”

“I did. But you didn’t. You’re...you don’t seem okay.” Catra’s chewing the inside of her lip, she’s sure.

She steps closer, but does nothing more. She's been good the last few days, fewer excuses. Nothing she shouldn’t do. “It’s just _her_ , it’s not you.”

“Prove it.”

She does her best not to gape at that. (She fails.) “How - how do I do that?”

Catra holds a hand out, something hard in her eyes that’s practically daring her to say no. Not that she would. Not when Catra’s offering. As soon as she’s close enough, she takes it, and Catra pulls her in. She _doesn’t_ stumble, really, she doesn’t. But Catra acts like she has, half catching her in her arms.  
She could so _easily_ just rest their foreheads together. She wants to, gods does she. Catra starts rubbing her arm the way she usually does for her and she can’t help smiling. 

“You’re exhausted.” And when she doesn’t respond, too shocked for it really. “Have you been sleeping?”

Catra squeezes the hand on her arm when she doesn’t respond quick enough. (Not that that exactly makes her want to answer.) She just got distracted by the most of Catra she’s felt in three days. 

“Yes.” Catra doesn’t look like she believes her. “I am sleeping. But the last few days...six hours isn’t enough apparently.”

Catra takes a miniscule step back and crosses her arms over her chest, eyes to the floor and tail curling the way it does when she’s uncomfortable. “You know that all you have to do is ask, right?”

Ask for what, though? It takes her too long for her to figure out that it’s about sleeping in Catra’s bed. Oh. That. That she hasn’t done since...right. She plays absently with her own fingers, wishing - selfishly wishing - Catra were still holding her hand. “I know I just - you can’t like having me take up your space all that much.”

“You’re such an idiot.” Catra sounds angry, but the fake kind - the kind that's covering up something else.

She snaps her head up, “Huh?”

“Yeah I - I fall asleep with you like - like _that_ because I don’t like you taking up my space.” Catra swallows when she’s done, tail snapping behind her. And Adora may be...oblivious but even she can see that Catra is - was - scared to say that. And she loves her for saying it anyway.

“Oh.”

Catra scoffs, turning away and grabbing her log from the top of her drawers, “Moron.”

She doesn’t know if it’s coincidence or not that Catra has a nightmare that night. But Catra wants her in her bed. She doesn’t have to make excuses for this - not to Catra and not to herself. Catra scowls into the dark though, even after she’s laid down again. Adora can see it in the moonlight, what with the open curtains.

“What can I do?”

Catra’s eyes shine blue and gold when she opens them again, “I didn’t - I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Technically she’s taking a risk by saying that. But they’re - they’re so much better at this now so...

Catra’s ear flicks. And she sighs, heavy and...sad. “Can you…?”

She waits for her to say it, but Catra never does. Instead she growls quietly to herself and drags one of Adora’s hands up to her head. It’s easy enough for her to figure where to go from here. She lets her hands mess with the grey around Catra’s ears, a little coarser than the rest of her hair. Feels like she’s getting drunk on the strength of Catra’s pulse under her palm.

And it’s here that she gives up on excuses, at least for tonight. Catra purring under her hand until she falls asleep - she doesn’t want to make any. She just wants to love her, _without_ the guilt. Same as always she supposes.

* * *

***Catra***

_“Rejoice, Etheria, for Prime has come to you. Do not fear, for each of you shall join me in my glorious image. Your world will be made anew.”_

That was the first, and only message Prime transmitted through his spires weeks ago. She honestly hasn’t thought about it all that much beyond ‘world made anew’. But she supposes that’s what happens when a galactic tyrant comes to take over your planet.  
But there’s been another:

 _“You all may run from my hand, but you need not do so. For Prime is merciful, I shall welcome you into my empire with open arms in good time. Your leaders - your_ Princesses - will not save you. And rest assured, I shall darken your false beacon soon enough. And all will be bathed in my pure light. Prime sees all. Prime knows all. They will not escape my judgement.”

She can’t stop thinking about it. Not since every day she wakes up and counts the clones at the barrier, and every day without fail the number has increased. His voice plays on repeat in her head like one of Entrapta's broken recordings. 

She keeps an even closer watch on Prime’s forces than before, but it’s not necessary. They’ve never fired their weapons, even as Rebellion soldiers ‘fought’ them off the last time refugees tried to make it through. That was two weeks ago. She doesn’t know what they’ll do now.

But before long there is a wall of clones, of Hordak-like things standing shoulder to shoulder. All blank green eyes and white robes. There’s no bots to be seen on the front lines, which Prime must have a reason for, but she can’t bring herself to try and understand a madman.  
And they don’t speak, the clones. Not unless approached. In which case everyone has received a slew of Prime-loving nonsense. (Or at least that’s what Adora said.)

The next meeting of the Alliance is...strained from the beginning. As expected. She’d like to say she acts better this time. But she’ll chalk that up to it not being about her in the slightest. She’s ignored essentially, and she does not care one bit. It’s nice to just be out of that room again.  
(She lets her tail curl around Adora’s wrist from the beginning this time. That’s probably helping too. Even with Scorpia giving her unsubtle looks.)

“Entrapta, anything on Prime?”

“So far the only data I’ve found relating to him is a component list for his ships. Materials from other worlds with properties I never even thought were able to occur naturally...” she’s getting starry-eyed when Perfuma cuts her off with a hand on her arm.

No weaknesses, not even a home planet. But she has only deciphered a third of the crystals. And it’s not their only information source. There’s also the hundreds of people inside the castle that have had first hand experience with Prime’s bots - and the world after the Heart. There’s reports of chasms, new ones like worldly scars torn by the Heart's power before it was stopped. Some people have fallen in, the depth meaning they’re lost to the black entirely.  
And that’s not even the worst news.

“Prime’s doing something to the people. From what we’ve gathered, he’s implanting chips into the backs of people's necks,” Perfuma says, looking deeply uncomfortable.

“We think they’re getting hooked into the hivemind if rumors about green eyes are true. We need to check the status of everyone in the castle. And people shouldn’t be allowed into Brightmoon until we do.”

Glimmer nods, agreeing with Bow. “This is our top priority. Try to be quick and efficient, but subtle. If Prime catches on and someone’s inside… Well, we don’t want that happening.”

The rest of the bots are up and running the next day. They’ve been coming out in groups but Entrapta messages her saying that those are the last of them now, updated and ready. It forms another wall essentially. Seeing Horde bots defending Brightmoon against the Galactic Horde - it's surreal at least.

As far as they’re aware, no one inside has been chipped. Catra figures that it explains why so few people have been adding to the castle’s numbers. They’re not making it before getting caught. She manages not to think about what’s become of the Fright Zone all that much, but she honestly wonders whether the wreckage of a place is even still standing.

Aside from out-of-date ship statistics, models and materials (they’re not really sure if they’re out-of-date but it’s safe to assume) Entrapta hasn’t found anything. Well anything related to Prime, all the First Ones knowledge she’s collecting is proving a difficult distraction for her to overcome. Catra wishes she could go to her lab and help with at least something. She’s going stir crazy with the log and endless watching. It’s the first thing the Alliance has denied her actually.

But Entrapta comes to her room the day after (she’s pretty sure it's to watch the bots but it’s nice anyway.) There’s not much either of them can do remotely, so as soon as the hour’s up Entrapta’s gone with a wave.

The day following that, she gets another visitor after lunch; the Queen herself. And Glimmer is exhausted. Not mentally - she’s still the snarky Queen she’s come to grow _a little_ fond of - but physically she’s weary. Magical drain with keeping the barrier as strong as they need it, the Moonstone, and by extension her, powering a lot more of it than before as sorcerers rest. If it weren’t for the Mystacor artifacts the barrier would’ve crumbled long ago. 

“So, you and Arrow Boy? You figure out your shit yet?” she asks as she jots down the amount of moving white _things_ she’s seen in the woods today. Whatever they are, they aren’t good. Just more weapons. 

Glimmer, honest to gods, flushes. There are sparkles in her pores as she thinks about her boyfriend and Catra doesn't bother to hide her eyeroll. “We did actually. Adora didn’t tell you?”

“She did. I just wanted to hear it from you. Say it’s catharsis after watching you two dance around each other.”

Glimmer makes a face she’s not seen before. Opening her mouth to say something before getting a hold of herself. “...Shit timing on my part.”

“There was probably a reason you waited till the war was supposedly over. Can’t imagine it’s all that fun for you two.” She will deny with her last breath that this is sympathy she’s feeling. 

“Well, at least I don’t have to worry about this ending badly without ever telling him how I feel.” 

And she does not like the hard way Glimmer is glaring at her when she says it. But she’s been _accused_ before, of many things. If she can’t deflect away from _whatever_ Glimmer might be implying, she’ll be disappointed with herself. 

“You Princesses and your feelings. Gods you really are all as bad as each other, I thought at least _you_ had a little more control over yourself.” 

And Glimmer does, when the emotion isn't anger or fear or any range of terrible feeling. (Annoyingly like her in that way.) Either way, she falls for it: “I am nowhere near as bad as Perfuma or even Scorpia and _she_ was your best friend.” 

Younger her would’ve said she didn’t exactly have any choice in that matter. “Yeah, yeah fuck off Sparkles.”

“Fuck you too Horde Scum.”

Her relationship with Glimmer is not exactly any less _weird_.

* * *

And still the clone numbers grow.

Everyone in the castle is restless - and there are a lot of people in the castle. All waiting for when this strange holding pattern breaks. And she is too. With how impulse-prone the Alliance is, she’s surprised they’ve listened to her for this long. 

Were she back in the Horde, she’d keep this waiting game going - gather as much strength as possible before striking back. Stalling with purpose. That’s what _Prime’s doing_. They’re on the other end of this and at a worse disadvantage than they were originally. No information on _how_ to attack, not that they in any way _should_. Most likely all it would mean is that they waste arsenal (and lives if it came down to it.) 

She starts modelling moves with her chess board. Noting down possible courses of action in the back of her log. Attacking would cause retaliation which they can’t guarantee they’ll survive. Defending is what they’re doing and it’s making things worse for them. And round and round she goes.

Another meeting. The plan starts out simple: lead the clones away from the barrier. 

Luring without outright attacking. _Not_ that anyone’s going outside the barrier without a plethora of weapons. Which is a risk to do in and of itself but it’s the only way anyone is comfortable leaving the bubble. She may be relying a little too much on Prime not seeing them as a threat.

Despite that meeting going better than the first, it’s still a relief once Frosta isn’t hanging over her shoulder - once it’s Adora’s arm draped there instead. If she didn’t have handcuffs on (and if Brightmoon had any walls that weren’t white) she’d even say it’s just like walking around the Fright Zone together. Though this touch lacks the roughness they had to use to keep superiors from giving them dirty looks. 

“Do you even have enough people to do this?”

Adora hums and she can feel it against her arm, “Well we’ll see, won’t we?”

She fights not to falter in her step, not sure how successful she is. “Adora it is a _wall_ of clones. They’ve surrounded the entire kingdom. There are more in the woods that I can’t see.” 

She doesn’t mean to bear her teeth, not really. Adora looks above her eyes, her ears must be back. “You really that worried?”

She growls, sharply turning her head away because _yes_ , she is. She doesn’t get how Adora _isn’t_. Adora rubs - she’s hesitant to say ‘pets’ - her arm lightly until they’re back at her room. Some of the tension flows away once they’re behind a door again, more of it goes once the cuffs come off. 

She rubs at her wrists and paces the room. She expects Adora to go rushing off trying to get She-Ra again or train or whatever else she does when she’s not with her. But she stays, looking unsettlingly concerned for her. 

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Adora crosses her arms, “You’re not exactly making me feel like I can leave you alone.”

It gets her to stop pacing at least, “What do you think I’m going to do?”

And just as quickly, those arms drop again. “Catra it’s not that. You’re not okay - and really I don’t think anyone is…” Adora ducks her head, “Do you want me to stay a while?”

_‘Always.’_

But that’s not the answer Adora needs, it’s not the one she wants. But she’s not going to lie either. She runs a hand through her hair before saying, “Is there - is there anything I can do? I’m going crazy in here watching _them_ every second of the day.”

“Catra I don’t know -“

“Adora. I want to help. I said that. I meant it. If you’re going to go out there and _fight_ if it comes down to it I want to be there.”  
Adora’s got that face, the rare one where Catra’s genuinely shocked her. She feels like she could tap her and Adora’d just fall over. It’d be funny if she weren’t starting to get concerned herself.  
“Adora?”

Adora half-shakes herself out of it, “You’d - you’d risk your life for the Rebellion?” There’s a wary, disbelieving _something_ tugging at her lips as she says it. A smile and grimace; hope and horror.

Well she wouldn’t exactly put it like that but… “I want to help.” It’s about as close to a confirmation as she’ll give. 

Adora throws her arms around her and considering what happened after she said she was just ‘joining’ the Rebellion, she really should’ve expected this. Adora hasn’t pinned her arms to her sides this time so she can hug her back just as tightly. She really will never get enough of the feeling. 

“Thank you. You - I don’t know if you understand how much that means to me. But this doesn’t mean I want you to die for the Rebellion. You understand that right?” 

Adora manages to sound worried about it. Which would be funnier if she couldn’t, tragically, say the exact same thing to her. “I know. You’re just happy we’re on the same side again.”

“The way it’s meant to be.”

She scoffs even though she agrees, because it is a dumb line (and it’s making her heart pound against her chest so hard Adora might feel it.)

Adora slowly moves back, but her arms stay around her. She’s not complaining about it, she’s just pleasantly surprised. So she keeps her arms around Adora too. Even as Adora rests their foreheads together and that surprise turns to just plain shock. 

The world doesn’t shatter. She feels like it should. And then she feels annoyed at herself for being so dramatic. They have been this close before. Usually at night, always without their faces actually touching. She closes her eyes like Adora’s doing, trying not to breathe too unevenly because Adora will feel it. 

She chokes out, “You sap.” And Adora laughs. And her insides feel light molten gold. “If this is what I’m gonna end up like for being around Princesses I might reconsider.”

“Don’t you dare.” Her eyes open a fraction and find glowing blue. She doesn’t say anything.

* * *

They’re going to let her out. No barrier. No chains. To go _possibly_ fight for the Rebellion. It’s a wildly sobering thing to be told once she comes to terms with it. It’s also, however buried under unfortunate circumstances, a recognition of her abilities. And she manages to at least get some enjoyment out of how Adora portrays the general reluctant consensus. 

She’s not going to try anything but they don’t know that. And she’d consider them fools if they were completely confident in her loyalties. _She’s_ not even confident in her loyalties, only that she will fight to protect the people she cares about. 

“I still have to keep an eye on you,” Adora tells her, smile small, as they wait for Glimmer with the potion that’ll free her. Adora’s twirling a staff in her hand, the one Catra refused is shrunk and clipped onto her belt. She didn’t ask why Adora wasn’t taking a sword, she didn’t really need to. 

But still, Catra grins far too wide at that. “You think I won’t be doing the same? If you get hurt doing something stupid I’m going to see it and forever give you a hard time about it.”

“Of course you are.”

She sticks her tongue out at her and Adora does the same. It is ridiculous considering what they’re about to do, but maybe that’s exactly why they’re doing it.

She hates - absolutely despises saying, even inside her own head - but Brightmoon is...nice, when there’s no Horde tanks firing on it. Yes, all she can see now is the grand entrance hall, the Moonstone and the shallow lake because Glimmer teleported them there to avoid citizens seeing her. Which was probably a safe move, even if it looks like it exhausted Glimmer to do.

She leans against the castle’s outer wall when Adora puts her arm around Glimmer’s shoulders. Just glad she’s not feeling jealousy as well as everything else as they wait. Sorcerers gather at the border, completely ignored by Prime’s army on the other side. They’re there to let them back in, and she wonders just how much maintaining the magic is costing them. Even from here she can see the exhaustion, so similar to Glimmer’s, radiating off them. 

The bots stand in a line, most painted white with a purple moon insignia. She cannot for the life of her articulate what she’s feeling but she knows she wants to laugh. The bots won’t be helping them today, though. There’s really no way to keep everyone safe if they’re on the _other_ side of them. And Catra is grateful - she really doesn’t want to end up shot today.

Bow comes and stands beside her when he joins them a few minutes later. Aside from Scorpia and Perfuma, he’s really the only one who comes close to her. She keeps her claws sheathed as a sign of trust she knows none of them will pick up on. 

There’s not really a plan in place beyond ‘lure them away’, even as they start the short walk to the barrier. Adora falls into a soldier’s step next to her and it aches just a little through the familiarity. The clones are as blank as she’d been told even as they reach the border, the only movement is that of hundreds of green eyes settling on the group.

No one moves for a while, just two sides of a war with a transparent wall between them. Or it is until Adora does something _incredibly_ stupid: walking through said barrier. Adora’s on the other side before she can pull her back and she shudders from the cold of the magic as she follows her through without a second thought. No one else does but she can’t think about that. 

And all remains still, even as all those eyes focus on the two of them. Her fur bristles and she subtly bares her teeth at them out of instinct. She wants to snarl but they are trying to _avoid_ a fight. She can see Adora’s hands twitching, so at least she’s not alone in her feelings. 

The rest of the Alliance comes through, a literal rainbow of people in a line. It’s weird to feel a part of something but she can’t dwell on it. Glimmer is on Adora’s other side, there’s no sparkles flurrying from her fists yet, but with the set look on her face, she’ll probably be seeing them soon. 

“Will you speak with us now?”  
There’s an uncomfortable silence as the wall turns to survey the Queen. Catra kind of wants to poke one of them in their weird eyes but that is a beyond stupid idea.  
“...Why are you here?”

 _“We do not question the glorious will of the almighty Horde Prime.”_ Catra didn’t realise they spoke in unison. Which makes her stomach roll and her tail lash. _“All will bend to Horde Prime in time. It is destiny.”_

She wants to spit in their face that she’s never believed in destiny. But it would be wasted. She looks at Adora and she thinks if she could growl as she can, she would. 

“We do not submit to Horde Prime,” Glimmer says carefully.

Something changes. Catra’s not sure what. The clone in front of Glimmer looks different in the eyes but she can’t see it from this angle. All she knows is that the next words aren’t said with a chorus. They don’t need to be.

“You will.”

It is at least a comfort to know Horde Prime didn’t know Glimmer could teleport. Ten clones swarm on her but she’s up in a tree the next second, a few of them coming with her and falling off the thin branch. Bow rushes through to catch her as she falls, and the rest of the Princesses are pushing past the clones afterwards. It breaks up the line, gets the clones to turn away from the Kingdom and towards them. 

Catra thinks maybe this plan can still work. The clones are following them into the woods and they haven’t raised their weapons yet for whatever reason. If they have a hivemind then do they have to wait for Prime to give the order? She has no idea, but she is grateful for not having to dodge blasts yet. They all crouch in the undergrowth - some better camouflaged than others - and watch their eerily still opponents.

But figures there’s a reason for that. Her ears twitch back, hearing inhuman footsteps behind them. She spins and tackles something white into a tree, and rips out the circuitry in its neck when she realises what it is.

“Bots in the woods!” she shouts, hoping everyone hears. 

Now the clones are aiming. Not all of them have weapons at least. She doesn’t care to know why. Everyone runs deeper into the growth and hides behind a separate tree to escape the initial wave. A way down from her, she can see Perfuma weaving branches into a shield but it’s not going to help everyone. There’s ice too, water, wind, sparkles and...nets. Really, there’s everything.  
But there’s just so many of _them_.

They should’ve brought something to talk to Entrapta with, enough magic forming a shield and they’d all be safe from their own bots. Another blast goes by her head and she peers round the trunk after. Bow shoots an arrow and she watches the clone fall to the ground, green fluid leaking out the wound. It smells like pure chemical. Not blood.

One of the clones is holding something, grey and sparking green in its hands. And she decides then that she will get whatever it is. They’re not coming back from this empty-handed. 

Adora stabs through a bot with one of her staffs, energy fizzing out of the limp form. She has a plan she _can_ do by herself, but having Adora there will help. She calls her over and pulls Adora in close to avoid a blast going through her arm. She can hear Adora’s pounding pulse over the cannon fire.

“Now would be a good time for She-Ra, y’know.”

“Yeah. It would.” Adora gives her a face that clearly reads that she _can’t_ for whatever and resists the very-not-needed-right-now urge to comfort her. She settles for squeezing the hands she has on Adora’s forearms. 

“I’m going to try and get something, you need to be ready to catch it if I throw it.” Adora nods as she lets her go. “You’re about to see how I fight when I’m not holding back,” she taunts, just to see the frown in Adora’s brow smooth out a little. 

“Oh really?”

She laughs at that, leaping up onto the closest branch that can hold her weight. She relocates the clone with the device and shouts, “Bow! Cover me.”

He gives her a thumbs up, strings another arrow into place and Adora runs to his side. Even when fighting an intergalactic army, it’s nice to know a universal flaw in soldiers is that they never look _up_.

***Adora***

It is, dare she say, _nice_ to see Catra fighting people other than her. And she won’t be ashamed to tell Catra that later. What she will be ashamed of, and what will subsequently never pass her lips, is that she’s rendered practically useless because Catra is...hot. She’s fucking gorgeous in battle. She always has been. But like a lot of things she’s been releasing recently, it’s different now that Catra’s on her side.

And she really can’t be this distracted right now, not when there’s a bot firing behind her. She won’t be _as_ mesmerised by Catra if she’s not looking at her. Also she doesn’t want to get shot...that too. She pulls Bow out of the way, takes down two more bots to cover him as he covers Catra.

“She's amazing when she’s, y’know, not trying to kill us.”

She spins around, seeing four clones lying prone on the ground, only one with arrows in it. “Yeah…” A battlefield is really not the place for her wistful sigh but it’s already happened so…

“Adora, are you feeling She-Ra at all?”

“No, I couldn’t get her to work, you know that -”

“- Because your eyes are glowing.”

That might be so but she still can’t get a grip on it, and that’s the whole fucking issue. She can’t distinguish _any_ of her feelings right now, let alone stop fighting long enough to try and find She-Ra amongst the adrenaline. 

Catra leaps full-body at a clones head, knocking it to the ground and snapping its arm behind its back. Adora dodges a blast and rams her pike through another bot’s chest that was coming towards the two of them from Adora’s right.

“Adora!”

She turns back to Catra in time to see her throw something. She has no idea what it is, but she tucks it into her pocket anyway. Catra will have had a reason. At least after that, Catra gets out of the direct firing line, falling back deeper into the trees. 

And if Catra was good at taking down clones - which must have some form of organic matter in their makeup - it is nothing compared to how quickly she can tear apart bots. Any hesitation has disappeared completely. (Not that there was exactly much to begin with.)

Adora shrinks her staff down and charges at a bot that’s about to fire at Bow’s back, making it grow again when she’s got it against a tree and cutting off the power. She doesn’t hear Catra running towards her, but then there’s easy-to-recognise hands pushing her shoulders and head down. If it weren’t for the way Catra says for her to duck in her ear, she’d probably forget that they’re on the same side again and throw her to the ground.  
As it is, the words counteract the instinct, and she obeys without questions. A green blaze flies over their heads. She keeps low to the ground and sweeps a bot's legs out with her staff before impaling it through the chest, Catra running off to her left.

She watches as Bow shoots an electric arrow and short circuits a clone's cannon. He shouts, “Everyone get back into the trees!”

Glimmer teleports to his side, leaning on him heavily and momentarily checking for injuries while he tells her something. A plan most likely. Adora’s lost sight of everyone but the two of them, the blue undergrowth providing excellent coverage. Glimmer runs instead of teleports away (and Adora figures she must be near-entirely drained for her to do that) but not long after she hears someone shout Scorpia’s name over the chaos. Next thing she knows Bow is running towards her and tackling her to the ground.

The sound of lightning, all too known, crackles like a scream in her ears. She screws her eyes shut, hates with every fibre of her being that it makes her shake. It’s involuntary that she calls out for Catra. 

Bow scrambles off her once Scorpia’s magic recedes, thankfully not saying anything, and she springs to her feet. Both of them draw their weapons before realising what just happened: Scorpia overloaded their circuits, even the clone’s weapons aren’t glowing anymore. 

“Everyone get inside!” Glimmer shouts. 

The sorcerers on the other side start casting and sure enough the spell parts like a curtain. Spinnerella and Netossa usher Frosta through first. She pushes Bow gently on the shoulder and he runs forward through the break and into Glimmer’s arms. 

“Catra!”

She just hopes seeing - hearing - the Black Garnet’s magic hasn’t sent her panicking. She doesn’t really get an answer to that as Catra comes out from behind a tree, holding a cracked circuit board. Adora holds a hand out as Catra runs to her, and Catra takes it when she’s close enough, pulling her along when she doesn’t slow. They’re not the last through, Mermista using her magic to wash the clones deep into the woods before coming back inside the barrier, the spell sealing afterwards. 

She checks Catra over, only her slit-thin pupils and fluffed up fur giving away her distress. Both of which she can blame on the fight, but she knows better. Catra tears her hand away when she seems to realise she’s still holding it.

It’s not totally silent as they walk back up to the castle’s entrance. Though most of the noise is Perfuma telling Scorpia how proud and impressed of her she is. It’s sweet. And it makes her look at Catra a little too long. She wants to be walking hand in hand with her like Spinerella and Netossa are doing but that’s not an option, sadly. 

“Any injuries?” she asks when Catra catches her staring.

“No. You?”  
She shakes her head. The worst she has is some minor burns from close calls, and the worst she can see on Catra is a small chunk of hair missing. Unnoticeable if she hadn’t spent hours looking at her.  
“Do you still have the thing I gave you?”

Glimmer stops her trudging walk ahead of her, watching as she pulls out the metal...something, wary of it’s spikes. She doesn’t exactly want Prime’s acid green energy anywhere near any of them. 

“Is that a chip?” Frosta asks.

“It’s what they were trying to put on you Sparkles.”

“Makes sense,” Netossa says, “Take out the opposition's leader and take her for your team.”

Unsurprisingly a blanket of discomfort settles on all of them.

The group starts walking again, but before Adora can even try to figure out how to tell Glimmer that she cannot leave Brightmoon under any circumstances now, Catra walks past her, circuit board still in her hands. She watches Catra hesitate to put her hand on Scorpia’s arm, sees the way she screws her face up and does it anyway. Catra was clearly anticipating at least a shock but everything seems to be fine as Catra tugs on Scorpia’s arm.  
She quietly asks for her and Perfuma to give the tech to Entrapta. Scorpia gives her a mock salute and she catches Catra’s hidden smile. 

They get all the way back to the Moonstone bridge when Frosta says, “I think Prime’s doing something.”

They all turn to see two warships hovering above the Kingdom outskirts. There’s a green flash and the wasted clones disappear from the forest edge. Somehow she knows those gaps in the barricade will not last all that long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Slaps chapter* this can fit so much foreshadowing in it :)


	30. Save Me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prime requests an audience with the Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: unrealistic injury detail, violence

***Catra***

Horde Prime requests an audience with the Queen of Brightmoon as soon as the clone wall returns to full strength.

And they should absolutely, in no way, be entertaining this idea. So naturally there’s a meeting about it. Because the Queen thinks they should go _talk_ to him. Catra doesn’t think she can convince them otherwise this time - they’re done waiting. (And deep down she is too.)  
Ultimately they’re going to end up out there, with him and his army. She knows the Princesses well enough to figure that out. And somehow making Prime wait seems like an even worse option. 

She’s in cuffs again. Seated at the circular table between She-Ra and the Queen just like the last time. Adora had seemed to have been led to believe that she’d never be put in chains again. And her stupid little frown made her want to kiss her.  
( _“I’ll talk to them about it. I don’t like them treating you like a prisoner.”_  
_“Adora, I am still a prisoner. Technically.”_  
_“I know but...I at least thought something would change.”_ )

She doesn’t know exactly what she does that makes Adora put a hand on her arm. Probably just made a very obvious face of disagreement because they really _should not_ go and talk to Prime. But whatever she did, Adora doesn’t remove her hand afterwards. And she can't help wondering if Adora would've taken her hand if she could. It takes a considerable amount of effort for her to think about anything else, which is unfortunate considering that she really needs to fucking focus on this damn meeting. She assumes the prolonged touch is unconscious, but given how stiff Adora becomes when she looks at her, she really has no idea.

They don’t even put her back in her room when it ends. (Adora very quickly removes her hand as soon as people start moving which doesn’t help her figure it out _at all_.) At least the Alliance also realises time may, just perhaps, be of the essence. Adora undoes her cuffs with steady hands in front of everyone, undoing them far quicker than any time before. She doesn’t really know what that means either. 

She goes with Adora back to her room to get her staff. Entirely because she cannot be alone with Frosta with her claws out. Not because she’d do anything, but because Frosta will definitely think that and she has a… _habit_ of proving people right when they think she’s a threat. Today goes to shit and she’s going to get hit a lot, why make that number any higher?  
There’s also the added benefit of seeing more of the castle. She thinks she _could_ get back to the war room by herself now. That is if Adora’s taken them the same way each time. 

She doesn’t enter the room with her, waiting in the shiny hallway she’s not actually looked at all that much. Adora’s practically blank once they’re turning back. She hopes it’s just nerves about a possible fight and not something else. 

“This is a terrible idea,” Adora all but whispers.

She makes a small noise of agreement for the lacking of any other response. She can tell it’s not the only thing Adora wants to say but the rest of the walk remains silent. In fact, it’s silent between the two of them till they’re at the castle’s entrance hall. She sees a little more of Brightmoon this time, walking with the group through soft stone walkways instead of being teleported there. The light still makes her eyes sting a little, but it is nothing compared to the first few days she spent in her cell. 

There are people in the grand chamber when they arrive, gathered to watch the clones outside, and her body fights between curling in on itself and standing proud with fake confidence. It ends up some awkward mix of the two. Not that people actually pay all that much attention to her beyond an initial scowl.

One of the people asks Glimmer something but she’s not listening. She’s watching Adora, same as always. (She could probably stand to be a little more subtle about it but it's not like Adora's ever noticed so...) Adora’s got the look she used to get before training assessments, where she tries to plan for everything but just doesn’t know enough. Her hands are clenching and releasing over and over again at her sides.

“Hey,” she gets Adora to stop with a hand on her arm. She hesitates under blue-grey eyes before pulling Adora over to the furthest wall from everyone, “It’s going to be alright.”

Adora starts shaking her head, “You don’t -”

It’s not particularly careful the way she reaches up and holds Adora’s face in one hand. But it’s to stop her talking - hopefully stop her thinking - more than anything and it works flawlessly. She’s not going to tell her they’ll be fine because she doesn’t _know_ if they will be. But acknowledging that won’t help anyone. (Especially not her secretly-very-anxious best friend.)

Adora closes her eyes and leans into the hold for just a moment before moving away. And she hates how even that much _softness_ with other people around makes her feel ill. It would've been fine in the dark, alone - sometimes she can let herself have it, only because Adora hasn't once rejected it. She tells herself no one saw, even if everything whispers to her that that is a lie.

She catches Glimmer telling the people to disperse, that it’s dangerous to be this near the entrance. She’s not exactly wrong if the barrier fails. She takes it to mean they'll be going now, and Catra knocks her head back towards the Queen and she keeps her eyes glued to the floor as they walk back over.

The enemy wall has moved back between the time of the...request, and that of them exiting the castle it seems, leaving a single clone ahead of the rest. If that’s Prime then she’s extremely confused. It looks exactly the same as every other one of them. Though she does quickly find a difference: the eyes. That’s what she couldn’t see last time. 

Adora doesn’t rush through the barrier again, thank gods. She keeps a clawed hand on her wrist anyway. Adora doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even move. 

Catra prepares to hear the haunting unison again but it doesn’t come, just a single voice, like Hordak’s but not. Pretentious even in the way he says;  
“Queen Glimmer of Brightmoon.”

“Horde Prime.”

“The occupants of this planet have told me _many_ things about you. It is an honour to finally meet with you.”

“Wish I could say the same.”  
Catra tries not to wince at that. It’s something she would say, which means Glimmer should definitely not have said it. His face stays emotionless though, barely even blinking.  
“...Is this your real body?”

It doesn’t matter how far forward the question was sitting on her own tongue, there is no way Catra would've asked him. She’s not saying anything to them. Maybe Glimmer’s got even more bravery than she originally thought. Or more stupidity. A whole lifetime of friendship with Adora means she knows exactly how similar the two are. 

But Prime doesn’t react. Again. “Oh no, my original body grew useless eons ago.”

He doesn’t elaborate further, probably for effect. Annoyingly it works, she had foolishly forgotten just how truly _ancient_ this entity is. Her ears twitch towards shuffling from their side, and it’s clear she’s not the only one.

Glimmer pushes her shoulders back as Bow gets closer to her. “I asked your clones what you wanted before. Are you going to answer?”

He makes a face like he’s thinking it over and it’s just unsettling more than anything - looks false. “I have come to...ask something of you.” 

She thinks he’s trying to smile but it’s like a ghostly version of Hordak; he just can’t do it. It also sounds like he has the utmost confidence that they will obey - which means they’ll be made to. (She thinks about the witch for a flicker of a moment, sees enough of her in Prime to be seething as well as scared.)

“And will you destroy the planet if we don’t comply?”

He laughs. Cold and restrained. Amused by them the way one is when they know so much more than you. It’s a laugh she remembers from childhood, but this is far from mocking older cadets. She never thought she’d miss them.

“I have no intention of laying waste to your planet. Not yet. I simply wish to _inquire_ about the Heart of Etheria.”

Glimmer blurts, “You can’t have the Heart,” before she can stop herself. Everyone tenses as the clones take a step forward.

“Oh Little Queen, it is not a matter of whether I can - it is simply a matter of when. No harm has to come to your people if you do as I ask.”

Bow puts a hand on Glimmer’s shoulder, “We can’t help you.” Bow remains rigid as glowing eyes look him over and Catra’s proud of him. 

“Oh but you can. You just refuse. A foolish game. My empire will not be halted by you and your kind.”

He snaps his fingers and every weapon he has on the ground points at them. Catra forgets about the barrier and tightens her hold on Adora, unconsciously preparing to pull her out the way and take the fire for her. If she were thinking clearly, she’d realise that it is far more likely to happen the other way round. 

“You can’t hurt us. You need all the Princesses _alive_ to activate the Heart.”

Catra didn’t know that. Clearly Prime didn’t either. (She doesn’t actually know if it’s true but if it isn't, it is a brilliant lie by Sparkles.) She lets go of Adora’s wrist, but only because her claws were close to breaking skin. The woman she loves is protected - even if Prime doesn’t know she’s a Princess. They can tell him and he won’t be able to kill her. Glimmer, Scorpia and Entrapta are all protected too so long as Prime believes it to be true.

“Even She-Ra?”

She doesn’t know if the panic that makes her feel is warranted. If he knows, Adora’s safe. But, she supposes, that also makes her a target the same as Glimmer. 

She regrets not placing herself in a position where she can see Glimmer’s face. But she trusts that Prime can read the way her shoulders drop. She doesn’t risk looking at Adora, he might not know _who_ She-Ra is - he might not even know that she has a civilian form. But she can sense the way Adora stiffens even further out the corner of her eye.

More of that thin smile, “Oh yes, I know about her. And the people who made her. Who is her bearer?”  
Green-white eyes fall on Adora near-instantly and it takes everything in her not to hiss or something far worse. She _wants_ to fucking blind him. Her claws make their usual _shink_ as they snap out. She can’t tear into his face from this distance but she swears to the gods if she gets the chance…  
“It’s you. I’ve seen your face before, thousands of years ago when I fought your ancestors. A pathetic attempt on their part, but oh did they try. If you should continue to refuse me I’ll crush your worthless rebellion…just as I crushed theirs.”

“I’m here aren’t I? You didn’t destroy them all.” There’s a hardness in her voice, in her face, that Catra doesn’t recognise. 

“No matter. Wherever they are, they are weak and powerless compared to my vast army.”

He waits for them. Waits for what, none of them are sure. They’re not moving and neither is he. Considering the last few weeks, she expects him to have more patience. He sighs, disappointed in a way that feels out of place with the severity of the situation. Though that’s it, she supposes; this isn’t _severe_ for him in any way. _He_ has every fucking advantage. She remains steady in her opinion that this was a _bad_ idea.

“Very well. Perhaps I’ll have to make you more...amenable to my demands.”

The clones all raise their weapons. 

The majority of them manage not to cower under the sudden heavy fire. The spell absorbs all the hits, the entire unceasing rain of them. But she should’ve known better than to think the barrier would be indestructible. Fissures start appearing in the transparent deep pink like it’s glass. 

_Their_ bots start firing from the inside. Needless to say no one thought that was going to happen. Catra does not know where Entrapta is - if she’s even watching - but she will hug her after this. The gaps they’d made in the army a day or so ago are nothing compared to this. Clones are gunned down too fast for her to count. 

And still the clone inhabiting Prime stands there. Like he couldn’t care less. Like this is meaningless. And she _hates_ him.

A sorcerer falls. And she can’t even tell whether Prime knew that would happen. She snarls at him. Just because she can. Because he deserves so much worse. Another sorcerer from the small group of them that are out here runs to fix the fragmenting pink. And just as there’s only five clones left, including Prime, bots start coming out of the woods. 

It takes another sorcerer crumbling to the ground for Glimmer and herself to realise they won’t win this by standing their ground. Just because the Princesses have a shield doesn’t mean anyone else - here or inside the castle - does. 

“Stop! Stop, we’ll talk to you. _Away from here_.”

The firing ceases on both sides. He doesn’t even have to move. So that snap was for show then. She wants to spit at him. 

“It’s admirable that you continue to try to protect your people.”

“I was taught to believe it’s the sign of a good leader.” Prime laughs again. “Walk. We’ll follow.”

He and his army turn, calmly, steadily marching into the woods like they’re not a threat at all. And there’s anger in her blood that demands she prove him wrong. It’s been a while since she’s felt it. 

Ahead, Bow whispers, “Are you sure about this?” to Glimmer. 

“No. But if it saves the people.”

He never turns back, none of them do. And she still feels like they’re being watched.

The army is scattered amongst the trees. Some of the bots even avoid areas, though she can’t fathom why. She has a horrible feeling that even if they get rid of this set more will come, it’s only a couple of miles between them and the closest spire. And getting closer.

The Galactic Horde comes to a halt, one of the chasms caused by the Heart preventing them from advancing in a unit further. There are trees half fallen in, blue vines having had time to grow down into the abyss. Deep blue tree roots line the cliffs edge, gnarled and upturned and clinging to crumbled blue-grey stone.

Altogether, the army, predominantly bots now, turns back to them. Glimmer’s hands light up with magic. Catra bares her claws further, everyone else taking it as a sign to arm themselves.

“I am not one to be fooled Little Queen.”

“We know that. That’s why there’s no trick.”

Catra knows realistically there’s no way they will all come way from this unscathed - if they even come away from it at all. And she does nothing. She obeys silent orders the way she never did in the Horde. Maybe she’s just gained perspective. (Or maybe it’s because she actually cares about these people. Some of them.)

Glimmer raises her hand, a sparkling orb buzzing in it. She sends it flying for the enemy. Catra leaps into a tree just as everyone sends a mass wave of magic forwards.

She runs faster than anyone else - faster than the bots on all fours- and crashes down on the clone inhabiting Prime. She slices through its throat before she can second guess herself, knowing that’s not the end of him. She’s not that stupid. Or that optimistic. 

A shot goes flying by her head, she only manages to miss it because of her hearing. She turns back to the clone who fired it, the glowing halo sliding into its eyes, a cruel smile twisting its previously blank features. “Did you think it would be so easy?”

“Not at all. I was just checking.”

The smile vanishes, the glow with it as Perfuma’s vines wrap around the body and send it to the ground.

It is simultaneously easier and harder to fight Prime’s army when they’re scattered like this, firing from anywhere as the bots weave through the trees. With magic being able to attack in multiple directions at once, she sticks with the nearest Princess. They take out what they can and she watches their backs, whoever it is she’s with at the moment. She doesn’t tell them she’s doing that, but she doesn’t really need to.

She stays away from Scorpia. She’s no use if she gets swept up in memories. Or if she can’t breathe. She is free to fight and nothing more. 

She keeps an eye on Bow since he seems distracted. She takes a moment hidden among leaves to follow his sight. Unsurprisingly he’s watching Glimmer - as exhausted as she was last time. Catra leaps to the tree closest to the Queen and jumps down on a bot’s back when its cannon aims and misses just a little too close to Bow. There's already another machine raising it's arm at them.

Snowball - _Frosta_ \- is punching the bots with fists made of ice nearby, so she shouts, "Frosta! Wall for the Queen?” across the field. 

Frosta gives her a nod, running and sending a thick wall of ice out her hands in front of them. A shot gets caught in it, heat fizzing out with the cold. Catra jumps over it and onto the bot, disabling it quickly. She launches herself at the other one coming towards them, only distantly hearing:

“Glimmer are you okay?”  
“I’m fine Frosta, let’s just win this.”

She looks for her next target, finding it in the clone that’s a little too close to Adora. She calls out to her, Adora twisting to look at her for a moment before she gets distracted by said enemy. Why Adora’s not running it through or knocking it to the ground, she doesn’t know. 

A sheet of ice sweeps across the forest floor, she can hear the bots not-feet slipping on it but she’s not watching. “Bow cover Frosta!”

Clambering into the cover of leaves, she gets as close to Adora as she can. Adora who is practically frozen in place, fist white around her pike. The clone - Prime - is saying something about She-Ra. She doesn’t hear it. Not since his hand makes a connection to Adora’s cheek. All false gentleness just like Shadow Weaver. She’s jumping down and pulling the arm away so fast she hears a crack. She’s sinking claws into its chest the next second.

The disgust on Adora’s face from the touch hasn’t exactly gone, but it has at least eased now that the body is crumbled on the ground.

“Are you _trying_ to get yourself maimed?” Her claws reek of Prime’s alien chemicals so much that there’s tears burning in her eyes. 

“Are _you_?” Adora blurts out in response, looking confused with herself as to why she said it. “He can’t hurt me without losing the Heart for good.”

“He can’t kill you. There’s a difference.” 

Adora opens her mouth to retort, but Catra pivots away with a scoff before she can, running for the nearest bot and leaping at it. She hears the clang of Adora fighting behind her, finding comfort in it that she probably shouldn’t. 

Far from them, Perfuma and Scorpia are taking on a frankly absurd amount of bots together using their magic. Scorpia’s never exactly been a fighter in the way Catra knows best, but this...might make her think otherwise. She looks back, checking that Glimmer is still alright. She is, Bow is defending her from behind the ice wall while she catches her breath, a bot is fizzing with her sparkles far away. Catra hears the swish of water far from her on the other side, so figures the water Princess must be alright too. 

Checking on other people in battle is a first, she realises kind of miserably. It is, technically, a distraction. She’s never been in battle with people she actually cares about being in danger like this. Well, not when said people she cares about aren’t the ones she’s fighting against. She blames that for the fact an enemy manages to catch her.

There’s a harsh impact on her face, solid not gunfire. The taste of metal explodes in her mouth as she stumbles, her lip throbbing. She lashes out, but her claws find nothing as she’s pinned to the ground on her front. It gets pulled off her and she rolls quickly into a crouch.  
The weaponless clone is sprawled on the floor, pinned there by Adora as she punches its face in, the metal crumpling under her strength. 

She should, decidedly, not be as in love with the sight as she is. Adora’s got green chemical clinging to her hand and She-Ra’s blue in her eyes when Catra pulls her off by the shoulders. Not because she wants Adora to stop, but because there’s already more bots and their cannons firing shots at them. She shields Adora’s body with hers as Bow shoots another two clones down.

She scrambles off her and pulls her back to standing. Adora’s hair is a wreck and the glow is gone from her eyes, replaced by some sort of dark rage, when she looks at Catra after crushing something under her boot. “It was trying to chip you.”

Maybe it’s suitable that the fur on the back of her neck stands on end. “Thanks.”

It’s mindless after that, all bots now. Circuitry dies in her hands, and even the shock of electricity isn’t as bad as the eye-watering stench of green chemical that’s thankfully gone from her hands. She also stays with Adora after that, too focused on not getting hurt to wonder why they separated at all; who else knows how she fights?

Adora’s eyes light up a couple times, but never for long, there’s even the occasional beam from her skin and hair, however flickering. It’s strange but considering they’re fighting robots from space...well she has higher priorities. Like how separated the Rebellion is on the battlefield. She can see Glimmer, Bow and Mermista (and of course Adora) but the others are all through a series of trees, much farther from the chasm than they are. 

She dodges another blast as it whizzes by her head, heading for the water Princess where she stands all too close to the cliff edge. Tackling the bot to the ground, and shutting it down quickly, she springs back up. Mermista isn’t anywhere in her sights initially. But she does hear her calling for help. 

She looks around for the pirate - she doesn’t think she’s ever seen him anywhere other than Mermista’s side - but he’s not here. She doesn’t even know if he came with them. It takes her exactly two seconds to realise Mermista’s gone over the edge. 

“Bow, Mermista’s over the cliff!”

“I’ve got her!” he calls back, pointing over her head before he’s running to the ridge. 

Catra spins, kicking a bot hard enough that it goes flying into a tree. The impact must have broken something necessary because it powers down. There isn’t another target for her to hit after that and she’s immediately searching for Adora. She finds her, thankfully, a way from the chasm with Glimmer at her side _talking_ with a clone - with _Prime_ again. 

She almost springs to their side and slices the clone herself, but instead she thinks, and backs herself into a tree. She keeps a watch for enemies in the area, listening carefully to what Prime’s saying. Tension is readily coiled into her muscles in case she needs to run to either them or Mermista and Bow.

***Adora***

She was holding Glimmer up before Prime over took the last clone. The emotion dragged forth by the white rings in its eyes and the reanimation of its face mixes easily with her own adrenaline, making her want to run from him. Or at least punch his face in. But just like last time she’s annoyingly frozen. 

Glimmer stands beside her, upright and faking it. Adora watches Bow over Prime’s shoulder running to the ravine edge. There’s water droplets hanging in the air that she’s only just registered. It’s quiet enough here, far enough from the bigger fight, that she can hear Mermista’s voice echo. She puts it together after that, realising that there’s not enough water around for Mermista to save herself. 

“Give me She-Ra and this all stops.” Prime yanks her focus back with that horrid voice of his. 

“You’ll never have her,” she sounds so much more confident than she feels. She doesn’t know if he can _take_ She-Ra from her, but she’s willing to bet that he will _try_.

“Or the Heart.” Glimmer’s fists are still sparkling so at least she has some strength left.

Prime just looks at them with some mockery of tired, “I cannot hurt you, Little Queen or you _She-Ra_ ,” he spits the name so venomously she wants to recoil, “That will not change until you outgrow your usefulness to me. But I can hurt those you love.”

The cannon - the one they didn’t break for some fucking reason - is fired before they can stop it. 

Bow’s got a hold on both of Mermista’s arms, having just managed to pull her up to standing. He’s not looking for the blast that's going to hit him. Why would he? They should’ve taken this clone down by now.

Glimmer shouts, “Bow!” as loud as she can.

Glimmer can teleport. She should be able to get there in time to save him. But she’s tired and drained. And Catra gets there first. Bow doesn’t get hit, not once Catra’s shoved him out the way. But he is falling, Mermista too, feet slipping on crumbling ground. And Catra. Because Bow may not have been hit, but she was. 

She yells, “Catra!” exactly the same.

Glimmer shimmers into view at the edge, footing stumbling slightly.

“Perhaps you will rethink your decision now -” There’s a pike through the clone’s stomach before he can say anything else. And she’s running. 

Glimmer’s there at the edge waiting for her. No, not waiting, just in shock as she stares down at the three falling people. She doesn’t have shock halting her right now. There isn’t logic. There is the sight of Catra falling and the inescapable need to save her. 

There is absolutely nothing in her stopping her from jumping after her.

She doesn’t catch Catra.

From what they’d been told this should be an endless fall. Of course it’s not. No, she’s hit the ground legs first, and she’s been lying here who-knows-how-long trying to regain consciousness. She’s in a shallow pool of water, ice cold, that probably helped in reviving her. She tries to stand and fails, pain flaring in near-every part of her body as the bone gives way under her. 

She looks around uselessly. It is as black as the world behind her eyelids. There’s moonlight high above, sure, but it doesn’t reach this far down.

“Catra?” Her voice manages to break on the single word. Reasonably, she knows there isn’t a reality where she gets an answer. She does it anyway, gives scratchy cries of Catra's name over and over again as she crawls through the water and the dark. 

There’s...green. Glowing eyes when she looks up. She would’ve seen them if she could stand. But they stare down at her, the whole group of them, huddled and most likely surrounding something; surrounding Catra.

And she drags herself towards them, pain so intense it would’ve blinded her anyway. She doesn’t even hear the water as she moves, only feels the cold of it. When she finally, _finally_ reaches Catra, she's panting hard through gritted teeth. She wasn’t crying before. She is now. 

She pulls Catra into her arms, fingers catching on the cauterized shot through her stomach. All Catra does is whimper. Because she _can’t_ do anything else. But it means she’s alive, and it’s the only reason she doesn’t scream.

The water laps at her legs as she raises Catra properly into her lap and cries into her shoulder. It doesn't matter that Prime can see her like this. Being _weak_ right now doesn't matter. The dull echo of Catra’s heartbeat feels like the only thing keeping her sane. She winds a hand into her wet hair and clings on as tight as she dares. 

There’s already so much tension trapped in her body where she tries to stop herself shaking that she doesn’t even jump when Prime speaks;  
“You see She-Ra, I had no choice. Not since you forced my hand. Down here, I had hoped to get the Heart through...civil methods. But you denied me my right. And so, this is the consequence you shall face.”

He needs to _stop talking_. She opens her eyes, sees the glow of them reflected in the pitch black of the water. She breathes in the distorted smell of Catra’s fur. Feels that blaze Catra makes her feel, disfigured by the desperation and fear and rage roaring in her whole body. 

She needs to get out of here. She needs to win this fight. She needs to keep everyone safe. She needs to save the world. There is so much she _needs_ to do. There always is. 

But she doesn’t care. For once it doesn’t matter. The world is second to how she feels right now; second to Catra. Catra who is dying in her arms, who is making her glow - ignite - from the inside out. She grabs ahold of the feeling, letting it flow instead of shoving it down.

Everything is burning magic - burning power - as she stands on broken legs. She can feel the bone strengthening, every gash and bruise she’s gotten in this fight and fall fading or knitting itself back together as bright blue like a flare surrounds her. She can barely register it as she looks down at Catra. Her arm feels stronger than she’s ever known it, and yet she still cradles Catra to her. 

The words come easily as she raises her other hand to the sky. So familiar and now, she realises, unneeded. The blade that fabricates in her grip is not of this world, not of any one world at all. She stares into acid green eyes, Prime’s eyes, as the magic washes into her muscles in a tidal wave.  
There is something so _satisfying_ about looking down on him and the false body he’s inhabiting.

The soft way she moves Catra onto her shoulder feels out of place with how harshly she slices through the circle of clones in one arc. A translucent rainbow follows in the golden blade’s wake. She jumps, fast and high enough that she doesn’t hear the splash when the clones hit the water. Her hands - _She-Ra’s hands_ \- make grips in the rock. The stone that shatters falls soundlessly to the bottom.

The slightest amount of light is reaching them after the jump but she doesn’t need it. She-Ra’s gold-white aura is more than enough for her to see the cracks in the stone, the roots weaving in and out the sides of the ravine. She scrambles up the wall, the journey taking too long considering the limited use of her other arm. But soon enough there’s a ledge she can push off with her feet. The rock rumbles with the force. She grabs a hold of a tangle of vines where it drips above the abyss. The half-rooted trees lie on top of one another overhead, the only reason she suspects that it doesn’t fall down on them. 

She’d have made it to the top by herself. She knows she would have. But it is still a relief when Glimmer appears next to them, teleporting them the next second. She’s on her knees when they appear back at the surface, Catra breathing shakily, quietly, weakly, but _breathing_. Glimmer collapses beside her and she doesn’t know what to do.

Bow lifts Glimmer, carrying her to the nearest tree and setting her down. She’s caught in a war with herself over whether or not to look at Catra in daylight. The amount of wounds she must be branded with right now might very well make her sick. She resolves to look only at her face. There’s no bruising save for the swelling of her lip but that wasn’t from the fall. There’s no blood in her wet hair, so at least some other part of her took the brunt of the fall. She doesn’t let herself analyse any further - it'll crush her too much.

Bow comes back over and gently tugs on her hands. It is surprisingly difficult to let go. She channels as much magic into Catra as she can before he takes her. It’s not nearly enough.

“Go. I’ve got them.” Catra’s body is completely limp in his arms and she feels more tears spill. “Go win this for us.”

She takes only a second to breathe. They don't have time; Catra doesn’t have time.  
The sword appears in her hand again, an extension of her now rather than anything else, hers to dismiss and call. If she were Adora, she’d tremble as she stands. But she doesn’t. 

She doesn’t bother wiping the water from her face, she doesn’t care. Everything is already in perfect clarity, She-Ra’s focus like tunnel vision as she crosses back through the trees. The world around her, the blue of the forest, is illuminated white with She-Ra’s light. Really it’s no wonder why everyone, including all the bots, turn to stare. 

She hopes Prime can see through his bots too. She wants him to watch her destroy all of them. 

What’s left of the army starts converging on her, leaving her friends alone to come for her. It’s a relief, strangely. Her sword morphs easily into a shield - easier than she ever remembers the transformation to be. It actually feels like she has control over this, she can _trust_ this. Like now that she’s _got_ She-Ra, the magic’s actually listening to her. 

Instead of getting pushed back by the cannon shots, she feels invigorated by them. Like she’s absorbing the energy. Maybe she is. 

She runs at the bots, ramming the flat of her shield into them with a yell that makes the air crackle. It sends them flying much further than anticipated. She swings her sword at the rest, the movement creating static iridescent magic that hangs in the air until she sends it forward like a second blade. Somehow she both expected and could never have guessed that that would happen.  
She-Ra is more than her, ancient, timeless; she knows what she can do. But she is also Adora, who could barely grasp the power she had with the sword holding her back.

Her friends are huddled close to trees to avoid fire, she just shouts, “Get back to Brightmoon, I’ll handle this!” And hopes enough people hear.

* * *

The glow fades once the last of them lies on the forest floor. She doesn’t shrink down back into her body; she can’t. She’s all too aware again, genuine unbridled panic breaking through She-Ra’s battle calm. With She-Ra’s height, she can see the cliff edge - Catra’s not there. There’s no one around her, and she hopes to the gods that means everyone listened to her. She runs towards the castle spires she can see over the treetops.

The Rebellion is there waiting for her. There’s a divide on the other side of the barrier. Injured people in groups all looking at the same thing. And she can guess what. The spell seals closed behind her and the first thing that hits her ears is soft crying. As soon as she realises it’s more than just Scorpia she knows it’s bad. 

She has been scared far more times in her life than she’ll ever admit. But this is different. And not. This is that damn throne room all over again. Worse, somehow, because it’s not just the two of them. It’s not Catra _wanting_ to die, it’s Catra suffering for doing a good thing. All these people looking at the dying body of the woman she loves, expecting She-Ra to save her when she doesn’t even know if she can. She didn’t have that last time. Last time they were the ones expecting her to come home with the news of Catra’s demise by her hand.  
It won’t just be her grieving if she fails this time. 

And she’s crying. Even She-Ra shakes as she would, the sword flickering out of existence. 

People step aside for her and she can’t even look at them. If she could run she would. But she can’t. Bow’s sitting on the ground, Catra against his chest. Glimmer is at his side hugging him and the body in his arms as she shines, the Moonstone high above them beaming with the connection. She-Ra has never felt heavier than now, seeing just how ashen Bow's face is as he looks at her.

She can hear the thunder of the lights in the Horde throne room as they flicked on, as she found Catra looking as weak and lifeless as she does now. She doesn’t want the memory - she’s never wanted it. 

She joins them on the ground, and Bow gives Catra up to her. Catra feels gentler, more breakable than glass; injured and unmoving. And - and not breathing. The unsteady pulse that held her sanity is gone too.

She clutches Catra to her chest just like before, buries her face in her shoulder as she fails to bite back a scream. Her strength doesn’t matter, it’s not like she can bruise Catra anymore than she already is. It feels like she hasn’t stopped crying since finding Catra in the water. 

_‘I can fix this. I can fix this,’_ is all she thinks as Glimmer’s magic shimmers around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ####  ****[Glimmer's Interlude](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29735100)** **


End file.
